Never All Together
by rainfromheaven
Summary: I loved you then, and whatever sin it is, I love you still! Hermione Granger never imagined her wildest fantasy of being with James Potter could come true. But while for Hermione it was only yesterday, for James it had been nineteen years ago. [JPHG]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** I didn't realise there were some Hermione/James fics going around! I didn't read any of them anyway, lest they influence the story I've already thought out. I am hoping this turns out to be unique. And hey, this is a slightly AU fic, just in case you didn't notice, so non-compliance with canon must be expected. But I hope I left enough canon in it to endear this story to your heart, anyway. :) I would also like to thank my wonderful beta, Bobbey (NalanieKeala), who spotted the grammatical errors, identified the inconsistencies and made the story sound more British. Thank you for agreeing to beta for me:)

**Chapter Summary**: Hermione looks into Harry's face and sees hazel eyes.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Never the Time and Place**

_Never the time and place  
__And the loved one  
All together._

_--- Robert Browning (Never the Time and Place) ---_

Wide-set eyes enhanced by mascara stared out at her from the mirror. She smiled, turning at various angles to admire her reflection. The dress fit her like a glove, its cut fashioned to show off her slim shoulders, shapely legs, and a hint of cleavage.

_I'm sure they'll like you._ Hermione Granger tugged upwards at her dress in an attempt at modesty. It would do good to let Harry see her like this tonight, but he was not the only one she would be meeting. She would finally be introduced to Harry's parents as their son's girlfriend, and she simply had to impress them.

Lily and James Potter. One of the Wizarding world's celebrity couples, the Minister of Magic and his charming wife were so highly looked upon that an event was rendered incomplete without them. James Potter was credited with defeating the most evil wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort, seventeen years ago. He had since risen up the political ladder.

Hermione applied a bit more tint to the apples of her cheeks as her mind conjured up an image of the Potters. Both had undoubtedly been blessed with not just incredible good looks, but youthfulness as well. At thirty-five, they looked almost the same as they had at seventeen—and according to Harry, bickered all the time, but were still very much in love with each other.

She could remember all too well the first time she had met the Potters. It was at the Leaky Cauldron, before her second year started. She was with her Muggle parents when a striking couple seated a few tables away caught her eye. The woman had fiery reddish hair and vivid green eyes, and was with a man with dark messy hair and eyes hidden behind black-rimmed glasses. The sight of them struck a chord somewhere inside her heart. She did not know how, but they looked familiar. _Very_ familiar.

* * *

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?"

She spun around at the sound of that voice and broke into a wide, toothy smile.

"Harry!" she called and then realised that more than her voice had called out his name. She glanced in the direction of the extra pair of voices and saw that it came from the couple she'd noticed earlier. The sense of familiarity she had earlier faded into a feeling of stupidity. How could she have not noticed? She locked eyes with the man and was startled by their hazel colour. It was the only physical trait he and Harry did not share.

The teenage boy with the same dark messy hair, but with vivid green eyes instead of hazel, walked over to the Grangers' table. He smiled disarmingly at the three of them before engaging Hermione in conversation. "I see you've been to Flourish and Blotts," he remarked, indicating the _Standard Books of Spells, Grade Two_ that Hermione was holding.

"I see _you've_ been to Gambol and Japes," Hermione retorted, picking a Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Firework that protruded out of Harry's pockets. She twirled it around her fingers. "Sit down, why don't you?" She turned to her parents, who were obviously waiting for her to say something.

"Mum, Dad, meet Harry. Harry Potter. You know, the youngest player in a century to play for a Quidditch team." Harry's eyebrows rose. "He's in my year and in the same house as mine," Hermione continued, ignoring Harry's expression, "and he is…"

"What about saying I'm your friend?" Harry interjected with an impatient look on his face.

"I was just getting to that," Hermione shot back. "He's one of my two best friends, actually. The other one's Ron." She smiled. "I hope you'll also get to meet him."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Harry said courteously. "Why don't you join us at our table so you can meet my parents? I'd like to introduce them to Hermione as well, who is," he said, casting an amused look at his friend, "the smartest student in our year, who always finishes reading the booklist before term starts, who…"

Hermione swatted him on the arm. "Oh, shut up." She stood up, and her parents, both of whom were looking uncomfortable, followed suit. "Where are your parents?"

Harry gave her a surprised look. "You haven't noticed? I mean, given your all-knowing mind and superior powers of observation and…" He stopped when he saw her eyes narrow murderously. "Oh, right. Over there," he indicated with the jerk of his head. Hermione had somehow expected it, but was still surprised when Harry led them to the table occupied by the couple that had caught her attention earlier.

"Running around Diagon Alley again?" the man with hazel eyes greeted, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Been in Gambol and Japes, have you?"

The same hint of a smile appeared on Harry's face. "Yeah, Dad. I ran out of fireworks. And then I went to the Owl Emporium and grabbed boxes of treats for Hedwig." He showed off the shopping bag containing all the items he had purchased.

"Next time do tell us where you're going, okay?" the man said. The woman beside him smirked, and he laughed and turned to look at her. "Now what did that mean?"

The woman's smirk turned into a sweet smile as she regarded her son fondly. "Harry, we're embarrassing your guests." Her eyes settled on Hermione. "You must be Hermione Granger. Harry told us how you helped him out of some scrapes he got into last year." She paused, then remarked, "You're the voice of reason in your trio, then?" Hermione blushed.

"Sometimes," Hermione replied, still blushing. "Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Potter. My parents," she introduced, gesturing to her mum and dad.

"I'm Lily Potter," the redhead said, shaking each of the Grangers' hands. "Have a seat, please, and join us for lunch," she invited warmly. "Oh, and this is my husband, James. James Potter." The man offered his hand in turn and assured their guests that they would love their company.

"Mum didn't mention it, but Dad is the Minister of Magic," Harry piped in. Hermione's eyes widened. Apparently James noticed, because he laughed out loud. "It's okay, Hermione. You can still call me Mr. Potter. Even 'James' would suffice."

"Another pathetic attempt at humility," Lily remarked, laughing afterwards.

Hermione was still staring at James, her mouth slightly open. "Sir, does this—does this mean—?" She hesitated a moment, then plunged on, "Does this mean that you are _the_ James Potter, the one who conquered the Dark Lord back in 1981?"

James's strong features were suddenly drawn in an uncharacteristically grave expression. He pondered the teenage girl for a moment. "Yes," he answered slowly. "Why did you ask?"

Hermione's face broke into a sunny smile. "Oh, sir, I am simply honoured!" Harry sniggered at her pompous choice of words. "I was so stupid! I read all about you in the history books, even saw pictures of you, but I didn't even connect you being related to Harry! You are a hero!"

"I don't think that was a compliment, eh?" Harry said, blinking confusedly.

James smiled, but the shadows in his eyes lingered. "Thank you, Hermione. I don't think you'll quite understand, but I'll say it anyway. My victory—I call it that for lack of a better term—was not only due to my own skills or wits. I had a lot of help, you know, and some people were not even credited…" Pain flashed across his eyes. "But thank you all the same, Hermione."

An air of gloom followed these words. "Shall we talk of lighter things?" Lily asked gently, intervening.

Hermione looked at her, once again taken by her beauty and wishing she could be like her when she grew up. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Potter. Harry has told me how Mr. Potter—ah—worked very hard to convince you to like him when you were in school."

Lily laughed her clear, musical laugh. "Harry! I can't believe you told her that," she said, still laughing. "Yes, dear, James here had to work very hard. I fought it, you know." She winked. "Unfortunately, I fell prey to his charms." James smiled reminiscently, and Lily laughed again then turned to Hermione's parents. "So you're non-Magical? I came from a non-Magical family too, you know, and…"

Hermione had already tuned her out, reflecting on the idea that it was quite impossible for anybody, male or female, not to end up being charmed by James Potter.

* * *

Shaking off her memories, she reached for her bottle of perfume on top of her dresser and lightly misted her body with it. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and smiled, the dimple in her left cheek making another appearance.

_Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Lily Evans._

* * *

Harry Potter paced the Gryffindor common room restlessly, his hands in his slacks' pockets. He stole a glance at the ornate clock that hung over the fireplace. She had agreed to meet him at quarter to six, and yet he had not seen so much as the tip of her toe or a strand of her hair. Five more minutes and they would be late for dinner. Harry grinned despite his nervousness. It was amazing how much time a girl could spend staring at herself in the mirror. But it was going to be worth it, he was certain.

He settled himself in an armchair and imagined Hermione wearing the off-the-shoulder, knee-length lavender dress she had purchased in Diagon Alley the day before. He inhaled deeply. Merlin, she was so wonderful, he sometimes had a hard time believing she was his. Not only was she enchantingly beautiful, she also exuded an aura of elegance and self-possession that could only come from being naturally smart. Hermione was everything he ever wanted in a woman he was willing to spend the rest of his life with.

Tonight was going to be extra special because he was finally going to introduce Hermione to his parents. Not as the smartest student in their year, but as the most fantastic woman he had ever met. He had no doubt that they were going to like her, having seen for themselves how she had grown up to be the way she was.

He caught a whiff of vanilla before he heard her soft footsteps. Harry looked up to his right and saw Hermione standing over him. She smiled, the light from the fire glittering in her brown eyes. His own green eyes met hers, transfixed. He would never tire of watching her.

"I'm sorry I took longer than expected," Hermione said, gently breaking the spell. "I misplaced my silver hoop earrings, and I didn't want to wear any other pair, so…" She shrugged, shaking the curls that framed her face. Harry did not know how she had dolled her hair up, but he definitely liked it.

He stood up and slid his right arm around her trim waist. "Are we ready to go, then?" When Hermione nodded, her hair brushed his face, the sensation triggering a flurry of emotions inside him. Straining for control, he brushed the curls behind her left ear and said, "Dad has talked with Professor McGonagall about using the fireplace in her office, and she said it's okay."

"I wish we could just Apparate," Hermione commented as they walked out of the common room. "Floo powder might stain my dress."

Harry kissed her cheek. "You'll still be beautiful."

Hermione glanced at Harry, taking in his long-sleeved wine-coloured polo and dark slacks. His polo was unbuttoned at the collar, emphasizing the clean, athletic cut of his jaw. He looked so much like his father. "You look rather dashing yourself, Harry." She cupped the back of his neck with one manicured hand, tilted her face up, and pressed her lips against his passionately. The kiss grew deeper, and when they both pulled apart, they had to straighten their clothes and hair.

"We probably look like we were caught in a storm," Hermione said, laughing as she wiped the smudges off the corners of her mouth.

"We were," Harry reminded her laughingly as they made their way out of the common room. "It was worth it, though, being naughty just now. After all, we have to be on our best behaviour for the next couple of hours."

Hermione laughed. "You don't sound so excited."

"I am." Harry looked her in the eye, and Hermione knew he was serious. She felt uncomfortable whenever Harry looked at her this way, as though he was rushing her into a lifetime commitment. "But I'm nervous, too."

"Don't be." It was all she could say.

Harry knocked on the door of Professor McGonagall's office before entering. The deputy headmistress looked up from her work when they entered.

"Ah, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I've been expecting you. Quick, or you'll be late." She pointed at a brass urn atop the fireplace. "Floo powder is in there."

Harry walked over to the fireplace and lifted the cover of the urn. He blinked.

"Er—Professor?"

Professor McGonagall fixed her beady eyes on him. "What is it, Potter?"

"This is Floo powder, is it not?"

"Of course it is, Mr. Potter."

"It's… brown?"

The corners of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched. "They're doing it in different colours now, Mr. Potter, depending on the quality of the Floo powder manufactured. About time, too, what with all the complaints of too much ash or smoke from the users. That brown one is of a higher quality than normal."

Hermione couldn't resist peering into the urn. "Looks like it too, Professor," she said, taking note of the finer texture of the powder. She turned to Harry. "You go first."

"Right." He took a handful of the powder and threw it into the fireplace. Hermione blinked in surprise at the eruption of light brown flames just as Harry shouted, "Godric's Hollow!"

The fire continued dancing in that lively shade of brown. Hermione was mesmerised. It was like staring into the depths of hazel eyes. She smiled at the thought, took a handful of the powder herself, threw it into the fire and shouted.

"Godric's Hollow!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** The chapters are quite long because I've been trying to be patient writing conversations between characters, so as to develop them further. I am hoping you won't find it irksome. :) I know the story still seems murky, but it will make sense in the end, I promise. Thanks again to my beta, Bobbey, who is so good with details; I feel so lucky to have her work with me on this. :)

**Chapter Summary: **James searches his mind for memories of her, not knowing they lie in his heart. Hermione makes one seemingly harmless decision that could change her life forever, and Lily and Harry begin to wonder.

* * *

**Chapter 2: No Day But Today**

_There is no future.  
There is no past.  
Thank God this moment's not the last.  
There's only us, there's only this  
Forget, regret  
Or life is yours to miss.  
No other path, no other way  
No day but today._

_--- Jonathan Larson (Another Day) ---_

"James? Could you please bring out the salad and set it on the table?"

The Minister of Magic ran a hand through his already messy hair and smiled cheekily at his reflection. "Where is it, honey?" he called out.

"In our bedroom closet, maybe?" Lily Potter replied, entering the dining room with a pot of roast in her hands. She watched her husband mess up his hair even more in the adjacent living room, hands on her hips. "James?"

"Yes, I think I might have left it there," James said, finally turning around to face his wife and smiling mischievously.

Lily shook her head and smiled good-naturedly. "Oh, you're hopeless." She stepped closer to him and straightened out the collar of his blue polo. "What's with the Muggle clothing? Last time you wore this, you were meeting my family for dinner."

"I thought it proper, dear. This time, we are meeting the woman our son thinks is the greatest in the world," James said. "After you, of course," he added, tweaking Lily's nose. "Hermione is of Muggle parentage. I imagine it will be more comfortable for her if the men in this family dress the way she's used to."

"I see," Lily replied thoughtfully. "I'm surprised it still fits you though, after years of married life." She assumed a mock hurt expression. "Don't I cook well enough for your liking?"

James laughed heartily, scooping Lily in his arms and staring at her adoringly. "You are positively witchy in the kitchen, Lily. But I do like to stay in shape. You do agree that a bulging belly does not look respectable for a Minister of Magic, or even for a former champion Seeker?" He paused, then added, "Sirius and Remus would never let me hear the end of it."

"Sirius and Remus are on the lookout for girls," Lily remarked. "I doubt they intend on settling down anytime soon, so they should look good. Hunky." She pressed her palms against his strong chest. "These muscles are not for anybody else, then?"

James grew serious, knowing it was necessary to assure his wife that there was no woman in his life except her. Women loved to be told so every now and then. "There is only you for me, Lily." He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and melded his mouth with hers. When the kiss ended and both of them were breathless, he whispered, "Did I kiss you like I was having, or ever had, second thoughts?"

Lily smiled, happy and content. "No, James. But a woman can never be too sure." She drew in for another kiss. "Mmm. You're stuck with me, James Potter, whether you like it or not."

"Believe me, Lily. I like it very much," James said, and then set about at great lengths to demonstrate how much he liked it.

* * *

Lost in their fiery embrace, James and Lily Potter didn't hear the soft thump made by Harry stepping out of the fireplace and onto the carpet.

"Ugh," Harry said, breaking his parents' moment and causing them to look at him. "It's a good thing I came first instead of Hermione."

James laughed, straightening himself up from the couch. "Aren't you glad to see your parents still in love with each other after all these years?"

Harry grinned. "I am glad and I know you're still in love with each other, but I don't really need to see it."

"Where is Hermione, son?" Lily asked, refastening the silver barrette that James had unclamped minutes earlier.

"She's coming, Mum. She's probably still adjusting to that brown Floo powder Professor McGonagall let us use." Harry grinned once more at the thought.

"I almost forgot the salad!" Lily exclaimed, standing up from the couch and throwing James a fond, reproachful look. "The two of you wait here for her while I go and finish getting dinner ready."

Harry watched as his mother walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. "Mum reminds me of Hermione," Harry said, once his mother was out of earshot.

James looked at his son curiously. "What do you mean?"

Before Harry could answer, the fireplace emitted a burst of hazel flames, and a slender figure slowly stepped out of it. Her head was bowed, her curls covering her face as she brushed imaginary soot off her evening dress. When she looked up, it was eyes the colour of the fire she had just stepped from that she first sought out.

A slow smile spread over Hermione's face as she took in James Potter's strongly-cut facial features and the sculpted body the blue polo could not disguise.

"Mr. Potter," Hermione greeted, a breathless quality to her voice. "It's been a while since I've seen you." She held out her hand, praying it wasn't shaking too obviously.

James shook her hand firmly, then leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek. "Last time I saw you, you had bushy hair and two large front teeth!" he said teasingly. He put both hands on her bare shoulders and held her at arms length. "Look at you, all grown up! Why—"

Hermione lifted her head and locked eyes with him. Coffee and hazel, so that he was able to see her fully for the first time. She watched as a flash of pained recognition struck his irises like lightning.

James lifted his hands off her shoulders as though he had been burned and scrunched up his face. "Wow. You reminded me of someone," he said softly, uncertainly.

"Of whom?" Hermione asked with bated breath. She had tuned out everything except him, of how time seemed to turn back and make him look younger. He looked familiar too, and she wasn't too sure it was all due to Harry. The sensations that coursed through her, standing so close to him, were not new to her. It was as if she knew James Potter with her heart.

"Nobody." James squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as though trying to rid himself of unpleasant memories. "Nobody I could remember, anyway." When he opened them again, it was Hermione Granger, his son's girlfriend, who he was seeing. It was no longer her—whatever her name was.

Hermione continued staring at him, misplaced disappointment evident on her face.

"Uh—Dad? Hermione?" Harry butted in, his voice edgy. He had sensed that something meaningful had passed between the two of them. He didn't understand fully, but he definitely did not like it.

The two of them turned to him, identical expressions of surprise telling him they'd forgotten he was there. Harry felt the initial irritation he had mounting, however irrational. He walked over to Hermione's side and wrapped an arm around her waist, as through trying to reclaim possession.

"Let's go into the kitchen, shall we?" Harry said, his face expressionless. "_Mum_—" he emphasized subtly, "is waiting for us."

One of James's eyebrows rose. _I know what you're thinking, son, and you're mistaken_. Harry wasn't sure whether that meant the slight wariness in his voice amused his father—or stung him.

James shrugged his broad shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione shoot a furtive glance at him. He ignored it. "Fine," he said, jamming his hands in his pockets in an effort to regain self-control. He had to steer clear of her. He led the way towards the dining room, but he could still smell the vanilla scent she wore. It reminded him of everything lovely and melancholy at the same time. _Stop it._

Lily was just setting down the bowl of fruit punch when the three of them entered the room. Her expression brightened. "Ah!" she exclaimed, rushing over to Hermione and kissing her on both cheeks. "What kept you?"

Hermione tried very hard to look straight into Lily's clear, honest green eyes. "Floo powder, Mrs. Potter." A weak smile curved her lips. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

Lily waved Hermione's apology aside with a careless hand. "It's no trouble at all." She beamed at all of them. "Why don't we all sit down and dig into this feast?"

The men pulled out chairs for the ladies before settling themselves. Hermione sat beside Harry and opposite Lily, who looked right at home beside James.

_Everything is working out nicely_, Harry thought, pleased at his parents' reception of Hermione and forgetting what had happened earlier. His mother seemed especially fond of her, asking how her parents were, how the new technologies were affecting the Muggle world.

"So Muggles have developed a gigantic database of information and anyone can access it? What's that called again—the Internet?" Lily asked as she helped James to another serving of mashed potatoes.

Hermione nodded, tucking a lock of mahogany behind one ear. The movement drew a sharp look from James, who also looked away immediately. The gesture was eerily familiar. He racked his brains, straining to think of who she reminded him of.

"Fascinating. I hope I get to operate a computer one day," Lily was saying. She turned to her husband. "Don't you think some of those machines could help the Ministry office?"

James blinked. He had been watching Hermione rub her knuckles. _What was she nervous of?_ He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and answered vaguely, "Yes, maybe. Perhaps. I'll have to ask other people in the office." He took up his fork and started picking his way through his food.

Hermione felt a whirlwind of emotions twist her inside. Why did the way his fingers hold the fork stir her? _His hand is so graceful, so elegant_, she thought, smiling a little at the thought of what else it could do. She lifted her eyes and once more took in the strong cut of his jaw, the almond-shaped, hazel eyes framed by his glasses and the gently sloping nose. She couldn't help but shiver. _He is so handsome._

"Are you cold?" Harry asked, his eyes filled with concern as he put his arm around her. Absentmindedly, Hermione tried to shrug it off.

"No, not really," she mumbled. _As a matter of fact, I think I'm blushing._

James and Hermione were not the only ones doing their fair share of observing the air in the room. Lily, despite her cheerfulness, felt an uneasiness tugging at her heart. Hermione seemed familiar to her too, like someone she had known before. _But of course that's impossible_, she thought, smiling as she caught Harry giving Hermione a look of pure adoration.

"James, I insist," Lily said, ignoring the look of confusion James gave her. James had not been quite himself over dinner—she didn't know why—but she had to force him to put up some effort to make their guest feel welcome. "I've seen Vernon, my sister's husband, working on it. They have it in Muggle offices. I think it's quite a work of magic itself."

"I haven't even seen one," James replied, staring at his food. He hated having to lift his head and see Hermione because every glimpse of her made him feel like one more dagger was tearing open at his heart. And the crazy thing was that he couldn't even understand why!

"I'll get one in Muggle London this weekend," Lily said, sitting back in her chair as though that resolved the matter. "And then we'll figure out how to work it." She put one finger to her lips, assuming a thoughtful expression. "Don't you know, Arthur Weasley might be on to something. He's always thinking about combining Muggle innovations and magic."

Both Harry and Hermione grinned at the memory of the Weasleys' flying Ford Anglia. "Definitely, Mum," Harry agreed. "It's like using two wands at the same time."

Lily fixed her eyes on Hermione. "I was wondering if you could help us use it, since I think you know more about it than anybody I know?"

Hermione looked surprised at the request Lily sprang on her. James did too, judging by the sudden upward jerking of his head. Hermione did not have the heart to say no to Lily Potter. "Certainly, Mrs. Potter. I'll help."

"Good, good." Lily clapped her hands together. "James, didn't you say you need a secretary now that Kingsley Shacklebolt has been assigned to the Muggle Prime Minister's office?"

James' eyes widened slightly. Even Harry suddenly tensed.

"Not really, honey, no," James replied hastily. "I sort paperwork by myself better than anybody."

"Yes, James, but that's routine work. Things would be so much easier for you if you've got somebody doing those for you." Lily's smile grew wider as she glanced at Hermione. "What do you think? Fancy moonlighting?"

Colour rushed to Hermione's cheeks. James did not miss that.

"Mum, I don't think that's feasible," Harry interrupted. "Hermione is still in school, and she'll need to study hard to get top grades, and she's Head Girl on top of everything else."

Lily shook her head. "I think it will build up her discipline and time management skills even more," she replied. "So Hermione, what do you think?" She let out a soft laugh and added, "You'll get paid, of course."

James stared at Hermione, waiting for her to decide. Half of him wished she'd say no, so that he'd see less of her, and maybe he'd forget what it was about her that drew him. But half of him, the more irrational half of him, wanted her to say yes. He watched as Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, knowing that the same dilemma was going through her mind right now.

And then suddenly, her eyes met his. James was too startled by the intensity of her eyes to look away. And he knew, even before she said it.

Hermione noted how James's eyes had not looked away. What she saw convinced her that what she was going to say was right, at least for her.

"Definitely, Mrs. Potter. I'd love to do it," she answered slowly and deliberately, a peaceful smile stretching her lips.

Her eyes were too busy drowning in the depths of James' hazel ones that she didn't notice that Harry had dropped her hand, or that he had been gripping it tightly in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** This chapter's part of the reason why the story is rated M. The title, by the way, comes from the movie musical _Rent_, which I have never really seen. But I heard the soundtrack, and it's incredible:) I hope this chapter does the title some justice. I also wanted to thank those who cared enough to read and leave me some reviews: **xmarauderforeverx**, **sum1swaiting**, **diamondsr4evr**, **Tween Idol**, and **The Almighty Cheez It**. You guys encourage me. :)

**Chapter Summary: **James and Hermione spend a little time together and end up firing off sparks.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Light My Candle**

_Little girl, hey, the door is that way.  
You better go, you know the fire's out anyway.  
Take your powder, take your candle,  
Your sweet whisper I just can't handle.  
Take your hair in the moonlight  
Your brown eyes, goodbye, goodnight!  
Long ago you might've lit up my heart  
But the fire's gone, it ain't ever gonna start!  
I should tell you, I should tell you  
I should tell you, I should_—_NO!  
Another time, another place  
Our temperatures would climb  
There'd be a long embrace.  
Looking for romance?  
Come back another day._

_--- Jonathan Larson (Another Day) ---_

James Potter wearily set down the _Daily Prophet_ he was trying to read and sipped his coffee. The morning sunshine streaming through the windows did nothing to freshen him up. He had spent the last couple of nights sleepless, pondering how to best handle the situation he had been compromised to. _Time alone with Hermione Granger?_ He rubbed his eyes. It should not matter this greatly to him, but for some unfathomable reason, it did. Again, the question echoed in his head. _Why? _The most plausible answer always followed, but he rejected it each time, knowing it couldn't—shouldn't—be that way.

The knock on his door startled him. "Come in," he said in a strong voice.

It was like a mirage had stepped into the room. Hogwarts school uniforms were supposed to be flowing, supposed to conceal the shape of the body. Females as young as seventeen weren't even supposed to possess full curves. So how in the world did Hermione manage to look like the very essence of womanhood? The wind blowing through the open door gently ruffled Hermione's curls, making her look even more ethereal.

"You called, Mr. Potter?" Hermione greeted mildly, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I have Transfiguration class in twenty minutes, and I cannot be late."

James stood and straightened himself up. Hermione eyed his strong stature with interest, noting that she had never seen anything quite as masculine as him. _What am I doing?_ she asked herself, swallowing hard in an effort to force away thoughts of him that were bordering on the indecent. She need not have to work very hard. When James settled a serious gaze on her, all her thoughts seemed to fly out of her mind.

"Do you have a lot of schoolwork to do this evening?" James asked evenly, trying not to imagine what he normally meant whenever he asked a girl this question. "I was thinking we could—ah—start that crash course on computers." He indicated one that was sitting at the far corner of the room, the one that Lily bought over the weekend. James did not understand why his wife was being pushy about him learning to operate this Muggle machine. _She's pushing me even closer to temptation._

Hermione looked a bit disconcerted. She glanced from the machine to him, feeling a little letdown at his nonchalance. She nodded slowly. "I always have a lot of schoolwork to do, Mr. Potter, but I'm sure I can make time to do what this temporary job requires me to. Especially since Mrs. Potter was the one who requested me to do so."

James wanted to smile, wanted to joke around and work the old, mischievous James Potter charm on her. She was just a teenager, for goodness sake! Why was the air so tense? But he was scared that by smiling he would break the ice, and she would be comfortable with him. It might lead to things that he couldn't control later on. And James Potter needed control, as he was a man. The problem was that looking at Hermione Granger reminded him that he was indeed a man.

So instead, he gave a brisk, upward jerk of the head. "I'll meet you here around eight, after dinner."

Hermione forced a smile, wondering what made him act so business-like. She was not some ordinary employee; she was his son's girlfriend. That made her almost part of his family. Heck, someday she might even really be family. _Some loyal girlfriend you are_, her conscience snorted. She steeled herself to meet those cold eyes, eyes that didn't seem to want to look at her. "Certainly, Mr. Potter." She gave a small bow and stiffly asked for permission to return to the Castle, with which James complied.

The door closed, and James shivered at the sudden cold. She had noticed, he knew, that he was avoiding her. _Good_. But it was more difficult than he expected. _What did that mean?_

* * *

"Ron, I won't be able to perform my Head Girl duties for tonight," Hermione informed the redhead as she gathered her things up from the table in the common room. Ron Weasley opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione shook her head warningly. "Don't ask, Ron."

"Where are you going?" Ron asked stubbornly. He glanced at Harry, who was sleeping near the fire, his glasses askew. "And does Harry know about this?"

Hermione wiped her hand across her eyes in frustration. She was sleepy, having had trouble sleeping ever since the dinner at the Potters', and she was tired and so full of dinner all she wanted to do was rest. She cast a look at Harry and envied him. "Of course, Ron, Harry knows about this." She stacked her Arithmancy book on top of everything else and decided not to answer Ron's first question. "I have to go, or I'll be late."

"How are you going to go there… wherever you're going?" Ron persisted, ignoring the annoyed glance she threw his way.

"I've fixed it with Professor McGonagall. And Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly, "will you please stop pestering me with your questions? I am not doing anything illegal."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. Don't say I didn't care enough to ask."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and made her way through to her dormitory. Once in her room, she stacked her books on her table and rifled through her trunk for something suitable to wear.

She recalled the closed expression on James Potter's face earlier that day, and her own features tightened. Did he think she had no sense of propriety whatsoever, that she was intentionally putting the moves on him? Hermione's cheeks burned. _Even if that was true, he shouldn't think that._ She shut her eyes, and the image of James loomed, making her melt inside. _What must he be thinking about me?_

_Well_, another voice inside her reasoned out, _whatever you're thinking he's thinking, it doesn't matter, as you're also thinking about him. That makes the two of you even._

_The two of us_. Hermione smiled and felt a shiver of anticipation at the kind of night she was going to have. Careful not to go overboard, however, she selected a pair of jeans that fit her snugly but were not too tight, topped with a loose, plain white shirt. She looked in the mirror and fluffed her hair. There was no need to put on make-up. Even with the lack of sleep, her complexion was glowing. Her lips were already red and slightly puckered, and her eyes were burning with excitement. The realisation shocked her. She wanted to see James Potter.

She grabbed her purse by her bedside and rushed out the door, not wanting to look longer in the mirror. The longer she gazed into her eyes, the easier it would be for doubt and guilt to sink in. She did not want that, but Hermione knew that even if those negative emotions did manage to worm their way into her consciousness, they would be ignored. Tonight, nothing else would matter—except getting what she wanted.

* * *

"The first thing you need to do is make sure all the connections are in place," Hermione said, bending over to check the ports at the back of the CPU casing, as well as the plugs on the power source. "All good," Hermione affirmed, standing up and brushing dust off her hands. She glanced at James, who was obviously not listening and was staring off into space. She remembered Professor McGonagall saying that as the best and brightest students, the Marauders were easily bored with lessons.

"You're not listening," she stated. James looked at her as though he didn't know she was there in the first place.

He ran a hand through his messy hair. "Obviously," he remarked dryly. "I still fail to grasp the significance of learning to use this weird-looking device."

"At least learn what it's called."

James smirked. "I know what it's called. It's a computer. But I still don't care what it's capable of doing. Besides, the continually changing magnetic field due to the electricity needed to power that device affects the magical waves in this room."

Hermione was taken aback and tried hard not to smile. James Potter was even more charming when he was being his usual, arrogant self. And he definitely had the right to do so, seeing as he did know what he was saying. She opened her mouth to ask whether he still wanted to continue with their lesson, but he had already turned his back on her and settled on his puffed up chair. A wave of sympathy rolled over her as James removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his shoulders hunched. Hermione decided to try a different tack.

"Long day?" she asked, coming up behind him. James glanced up at her, and for the first time, Hermione noted how age had shaped his face. Lines had already collected at the corners of his eyes and mouth, making him look wise. Unfortunately, for Hermione, apparent wisdom in an older man was unbelievably sexy.

James relaxed on his seat and laid his head upon the headrest. "On the contrary, it was too short for me to do all that I had to do." He closed his tired eyes. "But maybe you don't have any idea what I'm talking about."

"Maybe I do, on a smaller level, seeing as how I always have a lot of schoolwork to tackle," Hermione replied, placing her hands on his shoulders. The urge to comfort him—not as a child, not even as a friend—but as a woman, overwhelmed her. She felt the tenseness of his muscles and played her fingers over them, trying to unknot them. James settled himself back even more as though to allow her easier access. A low moan of pleasure escaped him as he felt soothing hands slide down over his back and arms in slow, sensuous circles.

Desire coursed through Hermione as the intimacy of what they were doing hit her, at the realisation that he enjoyed her touching him. She squeezed her eyes shut, and for a moment, imagined how she would feel if he wrapped his large arms around her. Oh, Merlin. She wanted him to hold her.

James suddenly bolted out of his chair and drew himself up to his full height, glaring at a very shocked Hermione. He replaced his glasses, the lenses magnifying the anger inside his eyes. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he said warningly, passing his hand over the back of his neck, shoulders and arms as though to remove all traces of her touch. "Frankly, I expected better of you, Hermione."

She was still too stunned to react, so she simply stared at him, her lips slightly parted. James's eyes were drawn to their unnatural redness, and yet they did not seem to be painted. He snapped his eyes away from those lips begging to be kissed, and worked on channelling his energy to anger. "I had hoped that it was only in my imagination that you were coming on to me that night _my son_ introduced you to us as _his girlfriend_, but obviously I was wrong." His eyes narrowed even more dangerously. "What is it you're trying to prove, Hermione? That you can bait both father and son?"

Hermione's eyes came into focus, dark and stormy. Finally, the issue was out. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Potter. If you're hinting that I'm putting the moves on you, that I even am attracted to you—" She let out a tinkering laugh and crossed her arms over her chest. "You've got an even more bloated ego than I thought. I did not suggest this computer tutorial. I did not even set the time and place for it. Who's coming on to whom now?" She tried her darnedest not to blush, knowing she was speaking in half-truths.

"Do you know, I think your body can answer your question," he answered, his voice coming out low and throaty, his eyes centred on her heaving chest. Hermione quickly uncrossed her arms and looked down at her shirt, blood rushing to her cheeks as she saw the evidence of arousal jutting out of her plain white shirt. She pulled at her shirt and looked back up at him, her face contorted with anger and humiliation.

"I never thought you were one to say such words, Minister, considering what a gentleman the whole world took you to be," Hermione gritted out, her face still flushed. She marched over to the chair where she had left her purse and slung it over one shoulder. She was making her way to the door when a large, warm hand gripped her arm and forcibly turned her around so she was facing him again.

He was standing so close to her she could feel his uneven breathing on her cheek. She was sure he could even hear the hopeless fluttering of her heart. James shifted his hands so that he was gripping her shoulders and looked into her eyes. He read hurt, confusion, and unconsummated desire. _She is so young_.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," he began softly. "It was improper of me to have said that."

"You shouldn't even have thought that," Hermione retorted, twisting her body away from his. She watched as James's expression hardened once more.

"Don't act so innocent," he said, his temper flaring up again. "You're not so young anymore that you cannot understand the attraction between a man and a woman." He subtly wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her face with his other hand. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy what happened a while ago, or that you don't want…" He lowered his mouth until it was half an inch away from hers. "This," he finished with a murmur as he captured her mouth with a searing kiss.

Hermione closed her eyes and felt herself being swept away on a wave of emotion. He was right—it was what she wanted. She entwined her fingers around his neck and automatically pressed herself closer to him. Her lips had been driven apart by his so that she tasted him. Fireworks exploded in her mind like she had never experienced before. This was how any woman's first kiss was supposed to feel—and James Potter was such a man.

_But he's not just any man._ The thought came unbidden to Hermione, the warmth she was feeling replaced by an icy guilt. She pushed him away, her hand snaking up and slapping him on the face. James pulled back with a stunned expression on his face, as though unable to believe what he'd done. Before he could say anything else, before he could pull her into his arms and make her feel like a woman again, she turned and ran towards the fireplace. She spotted the urn that contained the Floo powder, took a handful of it and threw it into the fireplace.

"Hogwarts!"

James stood staring at the fireplace for several minutes after she was gone, distressed. He had kissed her not only because he desired her, which was wrong in itself, but because he wanted to see how it would make him feel. The emotions her kiss, her scent, her taste had evoked in him weren't new—and that was what bothered him the most. He knew her, that much was certain, but he did not know from when and where.

_Who are you really, Hermione Granger?_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to my brilliant beta, Bobbey, who banished those errors away with just a few strokes of her keyboard. :) 


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **I'm sorry, but this isn't the Time Travel chapter yet. Not yet. Haha. :) I've planned most of the story, and again I apologise if it takes some time for things to happen. You see, I do not believe in love stories that happen over a short span of time. I'm also a descriptive type of person, and I put a lot of emphasis on facial reactions and mannerisms, which is why the chapters are so long. But I hope, hope, hope you don't find it boring. :) The title comes from the song "Love Story" by Andy Williams, which is one of my favourite old songs. Thanks again to my beta, Bobbey, who took time to leave substantive comments within the text. :)

**Chapter Summary: **Encounters with James make Hermione feel like she's on a roller-coaster ride. How could she have thought of giving up what she has with Harry for a brief attraction with someone who could not possibly feel the same? But Hermione soon finds out that not everything can be measured by the rational mind.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Angel Songs and Wild Imaginings**

_Though I'm far away__  
I'll whisper your name into the sky  
And I will wake up happy.  
I wonder why I feel so high  
Though I am not above the sorrow  
Heavy-hearted  
Till you call my name  
And it sounds like church bells._

_--- Sophie B. Hawkins (As I Lay Me Down) ---_

"Where is she?" Harry asked Ron as the two boys sat down for lunch at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

Ron gave his best friend a confused look. "Who, Hermione? I don't know. She's your girlfriend, remember?"

Harry frowned. He had barely spent time alone with Hermione over the past few weeks, as she was either at the library or had turned in early in her dormitory. In either case, her nose was always stuck in a book. "We don't even have anything due for the next few days. I can't see what she would be working on so hard."

"That's Hermione for you," Ron crowed, clapping Harry on the back. "She's probably making the most of the Hogwarts library before we leave school." He helped himself to the stuffed squid on the table.

The frown on Harry's face did not ease up. "I think there's something she's not telling me," he remarked, slowly drawing out each word. "I even think she's avoiding not just me, but all sorts of company. I wonder what happened."

"Yes, well, she's entitled to some time on her own," Ron interjected, taking a bite out of the chicken he was holding in one hand. "Like that night two weeks ago."

Harry cast a surprised look at Ron. "She went out on her own a couple of weeks ago?"

"After dinner," Ron affirmed. "I asked her what she was up to, but she told me it was none of my business."

Harry already had his eyebrows raised, waiting for Ron to continue.

"She also said—" Ron hesitated. "She said you already knew where she was going," he blurted out in a rush.

"She didn't do Head Girl rounds?"

Ron shook his head.

Harry's green eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was so unlike Hermione to miss out on her duties. Unwittingly, his mind conjured up an image of Hermione and James—_his father _— standing close together, like they did during the night of that dinner. _Was it possible that she went to the Ministry?_ Harry pushed his plate away, suddenly feeling sick with mingled jealousy and disgust.

Ron gagged on his pumpkin juice. "Blimey, it's Dad's boss! The Minister of Magic!"

Harry jerked his head up and looked in the direction Ron was goggling at. True enough, his father was striding down one of the aisles toward the High Table, where the professors sat. "It's my dad, Ron," he said patiently. _What's so exciting about that? _he wanted to ask.

The redhead wasn't listening. Harry looked around him and saw that boys and girls alike were staring at his father, their features alight with unmistakable admiration.

"Wow," Dean Thomas breathed nearby. "How cool is that, having a champion Seeker as a Minister?"

Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, looked at Dean with distaste. "That's not even his greatest achievement, you know," she said. "One of the top Aurors during his time, he was the one who finished Voldemort off."

Dean looked at her strangely. "Who cares about Voldemort? And what's an Auror, anyway?"

"Dark wizard catcher," Ron choked out, still watching James Potter greet each of the professors already seated at the table.

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were pinching each other's arms. "He is hot," Lavender gushed unabashedly, eyeing the Minister through hooded eyes. "How old is he again?" Parvati asked in a very audible whisper.

The hushed murmurs continued until James Potter had sat down in what was usually Professor Remus Lupin's chair and died down only after it became apparent that the Minister had simply come to have lunch with the Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Ron finally looked at Harry.

"That's your dad, Harry."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," Harry replied shortly.

"What is he doing here?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, noticing how his father's eyes were actively searching the students taking their lunch. He kept his head lowered to avoid meeting them, but he was willing to bet his next Quidditch match that it wasn't him he was looking for anyway. "Beats me," he lied, finally taking a savage bite of lettuce.

* * *

_I kissed him. James Potter._

_No, it was actually he who kissed me first. And then I kissed him back. With abandon._

_We kissed, and it was earth-shattering. It was unlike any other kiss I could remember, maybe because it was forbidden, or because it wasn't a simple meeting of the mouths. It was much, much more. It awakened something inside me that I'd somehow forgotten. It was a kiss as thrilling as fire must have been to ancient man, for it conveyed that much heat, that much promise._

Hermione did not want to continue writing about what happened next, so she put down her quill and closed her eyes. For the past two weeks, she had done nothing but relive the kiss and the way it made her feel. She remembered running her palms up his hard chest and wrapping them around the base of his neck, his arms tightly encircling her waist, moulding her to him. It was a dream realised, passion personified.

She sighed, opening her eyes and glancing around the nearly deserted library. Her eyes fell on the clock at the far wall just as it chimed one o'clock. She had missed lunch for the third time that week, but recently she just wasn't very hungry. It was as though thoughts of their moment together were enough to sustain her. She did not need anything else.

Her eyes widened at another realisation about the time. As though jolted by electricity—_a changing magnetic field_, she managed a smile at the words—she hastily packed her things up and dashed through the door. She ran through the hallways to her next lesson. _I can't believe I lost track of the time, just daydreaming._

A few minutes later, she was standing outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, trying to catch up with her breathing. She pushed the back door of the room open. "I'm sorry I'm late, Professor Lu—pin," she said, the last syllable dying on her lips as she locked eyes not with Remus Lupin's kind blue ones, but with startling hazel eyes she had come to know so well.

The world around her stopped revolving as she stared at the man who had been occupying her fantasies of late and as he stared at her with the same intensity he exhibited when he had held her. It seemed to go on forever, both of them oblivious to the darting glances the students threw from one to the other.

Finally, the left corner of his mouth curled upward in a smile. His eyes glittered amusedly—and dangerously, it seemed to Hermione. "You're late, Miss Granger," he greeted. "However, seeing as I'm only filling in for Professor Lupin, I refuse to take any points from Gryffindor." His teeth flashed in a mischievous smile as he raked his hand carelessly through his hair. "Also, seeing as I once belonged to Gryffindor."

Dean and Seamus Finnigan stood up and clapped their hands, prompting the others to do the same. James Potter laughed and then added, "Like protects like, of course. I don't doubt that greasehead—" Snorts and laughter erupted in the room. "Professor Snape, I mean, I doubt he avoids giving you a hard enough time."

Neville Longbottom was nodding vigorously. The clapping continued for a few more seconds, and then everybody who had stood up reclaimed their seats. James glanced at the young faces of his students in the room and was warmed by the respect mirrored in their eyes as they looked back at him. He turned his attention to Hermione once more, who had remained standing near the door. "You may take your seat now, Miss Granger."

Hermione made her way towards her seat beside Neville, behind the desk that Ron and Harry shared. She was grateful for the support the chair gave her wobbling knees. Her hands were shaking as she took out her Defence Against the Dark Arts book, quill, bottle of ink, and a spare piece of parchment from her schoolbag and laid it out on her desk. When she looked up, she saw James looking at her. She quickly hung her head, afraid her eyes would show some feelings.

"Only wands should be out, Miss Granger," James said with a soft smile. He turned to face the rest of the class as Hermione forced her things noisily back into her bag.

Harry swivelled in his chair to face Hermione. "Where have you been?" he hissed.

"Library," Hermione shot back defiantly, ignoring the warning glance James threw in their direction.

"Now, this course is called Defence Against the Dark Arts," James spoke seriously when he had everybody's attention. "For most of your years in Hogwarts, you have been taught to combat the Dark Arts using defensive, protective curses. The intention of harming your opponent has not been hammered that deeply into your heads yet. Am I right?" Nods answered his question.

James clenched his jaw. _Should I tell them?_ the thought sounded off in his mind. _No, better let Albus tell them, when the time is right,_ another voice piped in. James decided to obey the second voice. "Right," he continued, flexing his muscles as he played with his wand. "However, it has been said that the best defence is a strong offence. After all, you cannot hide and dodge from your opponent forever. You have to turn the tables on him, make him dodge you instead. But chances are, he will still attack you. The one who can best cast the Shield Charm is not likely the one to win, so why expend your energy in casting that charm when you can finish him off?"

The Minister of Magic glanced around the room, noting how the students hung on his every word. "That being said, I will try to teach you simple to moderate hexes. We will start with the Reductor Curse." He paused. "Does anybody here know what it can do?"

Nobody said a word. Having lived in peace for their whole lives, after the war against Voldemort was won, most of them did not bother with curses that could seriously harm, or even kill. They had heard of the Unforgivable Curses, certainly, but their usage was merely a horrible tale from the past.

"Nobody knows what it is?"

This time it was Ron who turned back to look at Hermione in surprise. "You don't know what it is?"

Hermione blinked, her eyes snapping into focus. She had been thinking how teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, even for a day, brought out the Auror long asleep in James Potter. "Of course I do," Hermione replied, with a nasty look at Ron.

James settled his eyes once more on her, his expression expectant. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"It blows your opponent into smithereens," Hermione answered matter-of-factly, ignoring the squeak of fright beside her. "You point it at the person or object you're targeting, and with a flick of your wand, you say _Reducto_."

James smiled appreciatively. "Five points to Gryffindor," he said. He aimed his wand at the professor's table so quickly that everybody missed it. Without a single word from James, the table exploded into a thousand pieces. Students screamed and used their arms to avoid being hit by the flying debris. When the dust had settled and everybody's arms were back on their desks, they all looked at the Minister with astonishment.

"That was fast," Seamus croaked. "I didn't even see you aim." James nodded at him.

"And you didn't even say anything! You can do magic without saying the incantations out loud!" Ron exclaimed. James nodded again, a small smile on his face.

"Professor Lupin has told me some of you have become adept at nonverbal spells," he said, causing a look of concern to appear on the students' faces. "But you don't have to worry. Not yet, anyway." He waved his wand carelessly in the air, and the dust and the many pieces scattered all came together once more to reform the table so seamlessly, it was as though it had never been broken.

"Each of you will now have a turn with the table. I have chosen a large object as a target because it will be easier to hit. Also, such inanimate objects are easier to repair, are they not?" James face broke into a grin once more, and Hermione could not help but smile. "I don't fancy trying to piece your intestines together, you know." He glanced at his son. "Why don't you go first, Harry?"

Harry stood up from his chair and also flicked his wand too fast to be seen by his classmates. "_Reducto!_" he shouted as people around him crouched for cover. Bits of wood flew everywhere. His wand pointing at the same spot, he yelled, "_Reparo!_" and restored the table to its original state.

"Very good aim from afar, Harry," James said, beaming at him. He nodded encouragingly at the redhead beside his son. "Ron?"

Because Ron's hand was shaking so horribly, he hit the chair instead of the table. James grinned at Ron's horrified expression afterwards. "Good thing I wasn't sitting there, huh? It's okay, Ron. You just have to get the hang of it to know where to point your wand, and you have to be confident enough to know what you're aiming at." He waved his wand once more to repair the chair. His smile faded into a searching look as he watched Hermione get up from her chair. "Hermi—"

The table was blasted into pieces before he could even finish saying her name. James glanced from where the table used to be standing to her, the girl who was making his heart swell with admiration. Hermione was living up to everything that had been said about her. "That's very good," James observed, looking straight into her almond-shaped, coffee-coloured eyes. "You had me at unawares, like you should your enemy."

_Or like you had me._ Hermione smiled so that she glowed. She saw undisguised wonder in his eyes as he looked at her and felt a pleasant tingle from her toes up._ I'm sorry, Professor Lupin, but thank heavens it was the full moon last night._

* * *

"I was worried you'd been living on paper for the past few days," Ron sniggered as he saw Hermione join him and Harry for dinner that evening.

Hermione glanced at Ron—and to both boys' surprise, she simply laughed. "I was busy working on something so that I had to sneak food into the library instead," she answered, her smile sunny.

Harry's mood lifted considerably at her smile, at the lighthearted air Hermione now seemed to carry about her. He sneaked an arm around his girlfriend's waist and pulled her closer to him. "Does this mean I can finally have time alone with you?" he whispered in her ear.

She had shuddered slightly at Harry's touch and at his voice in her ear, but hopefully he hadn't noticed. She turned to face him, trying to put some distance between her and Harry. Hermione knew she'd rather go straight to her dormitory after dinner and think about… him, but she also knew she couldn't deny Harry his request, being his… Hermione repressed another shudder at the thought. Girlfriend. _How did this become so complicated?_

"We'll see," she answered mysteriously, and with a smile to match. She shifted her seat away from him and showed more interest than she would usually have to the food on the table. After scooping some on her plate, she threw a careless glance at the High Table—and upset her glass of juice.

Reflexively, Harry reached out and straightened the glass halfway before it spilled its contents. He laid a hand on Hermione's arm. "Something wrong?"

_Oh, yes_. Hermione had just spotted a beautiful redhead beside the bespectacled, black-haired man she had been seeking out. There was no doubt who she was.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice washed over her.

Hermione bent her head to hide the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. _Where did the tears come from?_ Her heart felt as though it were being squeezed so tightly that she could hardly breathe. In the midst of her giddiness over her earlier encounter with James Potter, she had forgotten the real bleakness of the situation she was in.

She reached for her cup of juice and gulped it down before answering. "An insect bit me. That's all." She lifted her head once more to look at the High Table, just in time to see Lily Potter—Hermione swallowed a bitter lump in her throat as the last name she shared with him echoed in her mind—lean over to her husband, who was sitting beside her. She whispered something in James's ear that made him laugh. Hermione could not tear her eyes away as she enviously watched Lily run her own hand through his hair and as he pulled her swiftly to him for a brief kiss.

An icy knife sliced through her. _Enough_. Foolish though it was, she had obviously misinterpreted the affection, or whatever it was, she thought James felt for her. _Did I seriously expect him to have anything with me? I mean absolutely nothing to him._ Her mouth set in a grim line, she pushed her plate away and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, her robes billowing behind her.

Harry and Ron shared a concerned look, but before Ron could say anything, Harry jumped up and ran after Hermione. He leapt from one staircase to the next and ran along corridor after corridor until he saw Hermione sitting on the floor, back against the wall. Harry squinted and saw that the left turn at the end of the hallway led to the stone gargoyle that was the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

He turned his eyes to Hermione, who had a defeated expression on her face that he could not comprehend. She glanced up at him as she would an intruder.

"You didn't have to follow me." Her voice was dull, lifeless. She stood up and brushed dust off her hands and robes. "I'm okay now. I just needed time to think."

Harry stepped closer towards her. "About what?" Ignoring her frown, he said, "Don't tell me it's nothing. I can tell when you're lying."

"I didn't say it was nothing," she replied in that cold voice. "I was going to say that it's nothing important—for you, anyway."

"It's not important to me? How could anything about you be nothing to me?" Harry's face contorted into hurt and disbelief. "How did this happen? Why are you suddenly pushing me out of your life? You used to share everything with me."

Hermione shook her head tiredly. "I never did, Harry. You just assumed that. And I didn't say I wanted you out of my life. I just need some… space."

"Does this mean we're breaking up?" His jaw clenched in an effort to neutralise the pain the conversation was causing.

She closed her eyes and seemed to deflate right before him. Harry could not help himself; he reached out and wrapped her in his arms. Hermione clung to him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. She had missed him, the safety she felt with him.

Harry gently caressed her back. "It's okay, Hermione. We're going to sort things out. We're going to be okay."

Hermione nodded mutely. How could she have ever thought of being with James Potter, who was not only married, but was her devoted boyfriend's father and was so much older than she? It was insanity. She needed to get her mind back on track—fast. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I've been neglecting you lately. I—I don't deserve you." Her voice broke.

Harry shushed her some more. "It was also my fault for not asking you sooner," he murmured. He pulled her a few inches away from him and tilted her chin up so he could look straight into her eyes. His thumb fanned over her cheek. "I love you so much, Hermione Granger. I don't ever want to lose you."

Her lips trembled. "I love you too, Harry." She shivered—whether out of fear or anticipation, she wasn't sure—when he pulled her closer to him and kissed her gently, but fully, on the lips. Her eyes stayed open as Harry increased the pressure of his kiss. It was a warm, pleasant feeling, having someone care for her as much as he did. But strangely, his kiss did nothing to her. It did not make her wrap her arms around him and press herself even closer. It did not set off fireworks in her mind. When Harry pulled away for breath, she did not feel the urge to kiss him again and again, like she did James in her fantasies.

_The problem is with me_, Hermione thought as Harry backed her against the wall and leaned forward for another kiss. This time, she was ready. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck as Harry tightened his hold on her and intensified the kiss. When she conditioned herself this way, she could almost share his passion. But she dared not open her mouth to speak as Harry's lips left hers and trailed down the arc of her throat. She was afraid she'd whisper the wrong name, as the dim lighting turned his green eyes to a very convincing shade of hazel.

Footsteps and swishing robes echoed from the corridor Harry had come from, but each one of them was too engrossed with their own thoughts to notice the sounds. Then all fell silent, but the atmosphere changed with the undeniable presence of three more people.

Harry pulled himself abruptly away from Hermione and turned to look towards his right. He went red. Hermione followed his gaze to see the Headmaster, with James and Lily, striking a couple as ever, behind him. She rearranged her face to an expressionless feature as she looked evenly at them.

"Pro—Professor," Harry began, intending to apologise, but Dumbledore cut him off with a knowing smile.

"Just be careful next time, Harry."

"Erm—right." He glanced at his mum, who was smirking at him, the eyes he had inherited glimmering with mischief. His dad, on the other hand, was wearing that small smile he used when dealing with a variety of emotions all at once. Harry turned back to Hermione and took her hand in his. "We'll just return to our common room then."

Hermione tossed James a defiant look just as she passed him. He averted his gaze to prevent himself from cursing out loud and clenched one fist. There was no way around it; he didn't like seeing his son and Hermione together, and it wasn't due to some noble reason. He wondered if his wife's presence affected Hermione as much and if she had turned to Harry to seek comfort. _But why should I care?_ He rumpled his hair in frustration and exhaled noisily.

"Hermione," he said sharply. _Damn_. He had never intended to let that slip.

She slowly turned back, her eyes protuberant with surprise, despair, tenderness, and a hint of hope. "James?" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Shock registered on Harry and Lily's faces at her intimate use of his first name. It also stirred the beginnings of insecurity inside their hearts.

James did not notice them, as they seemed to disappear so that he and Hermione were alone together. He felt like his heart would burst from its rapid beating. He smiled faintly to calm his racing heart.

"We need to talk."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter. **The Almighty Cheez It:** You're right. It will be soon. :) **Gueneviere:** I'm not saying anything! Hehe. :) And thanks too, **Nynaeve80.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **This chapter contains a lot of material I've taken from the books as well as common theories on the Horcruxes. Horcruxes, you might ask:) The Wizard War is a central part of this story actually. You'll see later on how and why. However, I prefer not to dwell on it too much, like how the Horcruxes were destroyed, because while the War is integral to the story, it is NOT the main point of the story. It simply serves as the backdrop for the story. :) Rated for suggestive scenes, by the way.

**Chapter Summary: **With Voldemort's impending second rise to power, the reformation of the Order is considered, and the hunt for Horcruxes is on. Even so, James and Hermione spend one last night together even while deciding to stay apart. Lily and Harry's doubts grow, and Remus and Dumbledore discover something that gives them cause for alarm.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Over the Moon**

_Somewhere out there  
Beneath the pale moonlight,  
Someone's thinking of me  
And loving me tonight.  
Somewhere out there,  
Someone's saying a prayer  
That we'll find one another  
And meet somewhere out there.  
And even though I know  
How very far apart we are,  
It helps to think we might be wishing  
On that same bright star._

_--- James Horner (Somewhere Out There) ---_

Hermione's eyes widened even more.

"We need to talk," James repeated, more firmly this time.

The look on Harry's face was stormy as he looked from his father to Hermione, both of whom were intently staring at each other, as though waiting for the other to make the next move. "About what?" he demanded.

Lily bristled at her son's tone. "Harry," she said warningly.

"I was just asking," Harry answered defensively. _Aren't you wondering why the two of them seem to be comfortable with each other, Mum? Too comfortable, perhaps, for our own good?_ he asked inside his head.

Lily was, actually. But she chose not to let it show, despite the doubts that were crowding her mind at the moment. Anybody with half a brain could see that something special existed between James and Hermione, with the way they were looking at each other right now. Lily also sensed that it was something complicated and full of conflict, but somehow, she just didn't believe it was something romantic. She trusted James. He would never, ever cheat on her.

"Ask nicely then," Lily reprimanded Harry. "You're talking to your father."

James wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders and squeezed her arm in reassurance. "It's fine, Lil." He didn't offer any explanation as to why he thought his son had been acting that way lately towards him. Bridging a discussion about it would be tantamount to admitting that such thoughts had entered his mind, and he did not want to think about those at the moment.

Harry was still looking suspiciously at him so that James had no choice but to laugh to diffuse the tense air. He and Hermione had committed a major blunder he had to smooth over—quickly.

"Professor Lupin has asked me to discuss a few points of your essay with you. That's all," James lied, speaking to Hermione.

Hermione seemed to snap out of a trance. Realisation dawned on her face and her features brightened. "Oh, yes." James couldn't tell if she was faking or not, if she even knew he was lying. He prayed she wouldn't ask what essay he was talking about.

"Did Professor Lupin—?"

"On second thought, I think it would be better if you discussed it with him when he's feeling better," James interrupted mildly.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but was silenced by the almost undetectable shaking of his head. "Oh, sure. Okay," she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.

Harry had had enough. "We'll go then, Mum," he said, taking Hermione's hand and starting to drag her away. "Dad," he added hesitantly, jerking his head in goodbye.

James nodded graciously at his son and then looked away so that he would miss the sight of them together, which still inexplicably annoyed him. After a few moments he turned to Dumbledore. "Shall we?"

The Hogwarts headmaster nodded and began leading the way to his office. "Acid Pops," he said, tapping the stone gargoyle. The three of them watched it spring to life and step aside to reveal the stairs that led to his circular room.

Once inside, Dumbledore settled himself in his seat behind his table and gestured for the Potters to take their seats. He laced his fingers together in a characteristic manner and took a deep breath before speaking.

"James," he addressed the Minister. "You told me yesterday that rumours about Lord Voldemort's existence have been active throughout the Ministry." James said nothing, waiting for the venerable old man to continue. "Likewise, I have received reports of a certain spiritual presence living in the Forbidden Forest."

"How?" Lily asked.

"Hagrid has found several white unicorns dead in the forest, all of them with their blood drained. Aragog also, he said, spoke of a sinister shadow looming in the forest. It is very possible that all of them point to Voldemort's survival even to this day."

Lily shuddered. "But I thought he was dead, when he tried to attack us seventeen years ago. I thought James killed him!"

Something flashed in Dumbledore's eyes. But then, James might have imagined it through the wizard's half-moon spectacles. "I never really believed him to be dead," Dumbledore said softly. "I think I am close to figuring out why he didn't die, why he cannot be killed just yet. I will tell you when the time is right."

"He cannot be killed?" James repeated, stunned. "Professor, are you sure Voldemort is still alive, and that he is the one hiding in the forest?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "James, I wish I didn't have to say this, but I'm sure. I know." He paused a moment to recollect his thoughts, then said, "But you see, although Voldemort is alive still, he doesn't have a body he can use just yet. The unicorns were killed because he needed blood to sustain the form which he is in at the moment."

"So near Hogwarts," Lily fretted, her face ashen. "Is he still… living up to the prophecy? He still wants to kill Harry?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes and gave another nod. Lily put one hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp of fear. She turned to her husband. "Oh, James, we have to protect Harry," she pleaded with him, as though he possibly didn't want to. "Harry is… Oh, Harry. He is seventeen, but he is still a child. He has not known much hardship in life." She covered her face in her hands.

James rubbed Lily's back consolingly as he moved his chair closer to where she sat. "Lily, of course we'll protect Harry. We'll even teach him to protect himself." He smiled for a moment. "Not that he needs to. You remember that basilisk he battled in second year? He is naturally skilled in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Which he took after me, of course."

That coaxed a smile from Lily when she lifted her face. "You're right, James. I was being silly. Harry has braved some dangers already. But I am just so scared." She turned back to the headmaster. "Professor, do you know of any method Voldemort might use to regenerate his body?"

"I do." Dumbledore looked even more troubled now. "There is a very ancient magic he can evoke, but it requires the blood of his enemy." He fixed his gaze on James. "I think it's your blood he's after."

Lily stifled another gasp. Fear was etched even more deeply into her face. "James…"

"That's not what you're thinking," James told the headmaster, who nodded. "It's my blood he needs, yes, but he's going to take it from my son." His voice was shaking with anger. "That bastard. I'm going to kill him before he lays one finger on Harry."

Dumbledore shook his head. "James, James. Voldemort cannot be killed that easily, I told you." He considered the two of them and sighed. "I guess I really should tell you now. Have either of you heard about Horcruxes?"

James shook his head while Lily answered, "I just know it's one of the darkest forms of magic, Professor."

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore said as he stood up from his chair and paced the room, his hands in his pockets. "All these years that people describe as peaceful, but what I call the calm before the storm, I have done my best to know as much about Voldemort as I can in the hope that I could confirm or reject the hypothesis I've been working on."

"A Horcrux is an object charmed to conceal part of the soul of a person. While the divine form of the soul is intact, it may be split by the supreme act against nature—murder. Killing rips the soul apart, and the wizard may use this to his advantage by encasing the torn portion of his soul in an object."

Lily was horrified. "So this is why Voldemort cannot be killed?" she breathed. "He has made himself Horcruxes? He killed so he cannot be killed?"

James was almost afraid to ask the question. "How many?"

"Six," Dumbledore said. James and Lily felt as though their own souls were torn apart. They had no idea that they had been battling a wizard powerful enough to triumph even over death. How were they supposed to win? How were they supposed to fight in the first place?

"You see then, I hope, that we must battle on a different front," Dumbledore said. "If we can destroy his Horcruxes, we can reduce Voldemort to a mortal man bereft of a soul, although with his magical abilities still intact."

"You make it sound so easy," James answered. "Do you know what objects he used as his Horcruxes? Do you know where he keeps them? I assume they are highly protected, wherever they are."

Dumbledore nodded again in agreement as he returned to his seat. "Right you are, James. But Harry, surprisingly, has already destroyed one." He smiled as he saw their jaws drop in shock. "Do you remember the diary that enchanted Ginny Weasley to open the Chamber of Secrets five years ago? That diary was not just Tom Riddle's diary; Voldemort had made it his Horcrux." Dumbledore smiled thoughtfully. _In a way, Harry has already begun fulfilling his destiny._

Lily was beaming with pride as she sat up straighter in her chair.

"I have also destroyed his grandfather's ornate ring, which is an heirloom passed on to the descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself. The cup, which once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, is also no longer a Horcrux, " Dumbledore continued.

James was shaking his head in awe and admiration. Dumbledore's words made his heart brim with hope. "Headmaster, you are truly the greatest wizard in this world. I would have asked you to recount every detail of your story, but that would take too long, I imagine."

"It would indeed, and I wish to do it justice. Maybe someday, when the day that we can simply laugh at old sorrows comes." Dumbledore smiled at James.

"There are only three left then," Lily said, stating the obvious. She looked expectantly at Dumbledore. "Do you—?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled. "Yes, I do, my dear. One is the necklace of Slytherin that bears his mark. The Mirror of Erised is another, as it was actually Rowena Ravenclaw's." He smiled at the utter amazement mirrored on the couple's faces. "The last one is Voldemort's snake, Nagini."

"The Four Founders," James said with spite. "Well, almost anyway. He didn't find anything of Gryffindor's. But still, such historical objects make it more difficult for us to destroy them. But we will. We will," he said forcefully.

"I think I know where the necklace is," Dumbledore said. He looked at James. "You might want to ask Sirius for help. I believe the Blacks have kept it."

His hazel eyes widened. "Grimmauld Place."

"Exactly," Dumbledore affirmed. He turned to Lily next. "Lily, could I assign the mirror to you? I have examined it and have found that it cannot be destroyed by even the most difficult curses, probably due to the protective charms placed on it." He smiled at her. "Charms, of course, is your area of expertise."

Lily nodded briskly. "Definitely, Headmaster. I can do it."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I cannot even describe to you the relief I feel having both of you on my side in this war." He sighed. "I hope we succeed in destroying at least the five inanimate Horcruxes before Voldemort has been truly resurrected. The snake—I doubt we'll find it without finding him first, so that can wait. And then him, finally."

James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Professor, are you planning to reform the Order? I have continued Auror training in the Ministry for the past ten years so that we at least have a capable army this time around."

The headmaster nodded appreciatively. "Very good, James. But we'll only summon them if, and when, the worst happens." He looked from one to another, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. "Work as quickly as you can, for time is pressing. Your tasks—keep them secret, and keep them safe."

James and Lily were both breathing in and out deeply, as though trying to lessen the impact of all that have been talked about tonight. "Yes, Headmaster," James said, while Lily simply nodded.

"That is all," Dumbledore said. To their ears, his words seemed to be the understatement of the century. "Have some rest now. Do you want to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Lily? James will be spending the night here, as Remus is still indisposed to do his lessons tomorrow."

Husband and wife glanced at each other. "That won't be necessary, Professor," Lily answered. "I have matters to attend to at home before I turn in." She yawned behind one delicate hand. "May I use your Fire?"

"Certainly, Lily."

James stood up and accompanied his wife to the fireplace. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he said, smiling his most charming smile. "Sweet dreams."

Lily regarded him for a moment and then smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes. Earlier misgivings had resurfaced, but she was too tired to deal with them. "Goodnight, James."

He leaned towards her to kiss her and pull her to him, but she didn't bother returning his embrace. She stepped away quickly and reached for the Floo powder. Without glancing back at James, she shouted, "Godric's Hollow!" and stepped into the fire. Lily needed warmth, badly. Her husband's display of affection had left her cold.

* * *

Hermione felt a sharp pain stab her finger. She wriggled her wrist, pounded her arm on the bed and rolled over to the other side. She felt another stab. "Stop it," she said angrily, opening her eyes and sitting up in bed. Bleary-eyed, she looked around and tried to locate the source of her discomfort. She spotted a big, tawny owl sitting on her bed, holding a parchment and a package in his beak.

She glared at the owl. "What are you doing, bringing packages at this time of the night? I was sleeping!" The owl dropped the parchment and parcel unto the bed and hooted softly, as though to remind Hermione that he was a nocturnal animal. He then flapped his wings and soared out of the window into the night. Hermione stood up, cursing, and went to pull the window down. She reminded herself to never again forget to shut the window before going to sleep.

She stepped back towards her bed cautiously, reaching for her wand to light the nearest torch. Who would send her anything at such a late hour? She sat down on the soft mattress and reached to unroll the parchment, which she thought was the safer thing to do first.

_Hi. Could you meet me at the Quidditch field right now? We really need to talk. Use the Invisibility Cloak. I'll be waiting. —JP—_

_JP._ She shivered. _He wanted to see her._ Hermione felt a combination of warmth and apprehension overwhelm her as she tore the parcel open. "Wow," she murmured, running her fingers over the flimsy, translucent material the cloak was made of.

It was easy to make her mind up. She bent down, rummaged in her trunk for spare robes and pulled them over her nightgown. She glanced once at the mirror to make sure she looked decent enough to face him then efficiently rolled up the parchment and tucked it in one of her pockets.

Hermione draped the cloth over her whole body and walked to the dormitory door. She reached for the knob and looked around, hoping her roommates were all sound asleep. The knob creaked as it turned. Hermione squeezed herself through the small wedge of the open door and carefully closed it behind her. She took a deep breath and walked on tiptoes as fast as she could. The sooner she could get out of the castle, the better.

She was surprised to find the door of the castle slightly ajar when she reached it and then remembered whom she was meeting. She smiled as she recalled the pranks the Marauders used to play when they were in Hogwarts. _Now where did that come from?_ she wondered. It wasn't as if she knew any of the pranks they actually pulled back then, but a memory of Slytherins having their hair dyed green nagged her mind. _I heard it__from Fred and George, most likely_. Ron's older twin brothers worshipped the ground the Marauders walked on.

The cold wind whipped across her face as she stepped outside. Hermione made her way through the grounds to the ornate white gates that led to the field and pushed it open. A lone figure stood approximately ten feet away from the gate with his back to her. Hermione held her breath as she walked towards the figure, the springy grass silencing her footsteps.

When she had traversed half the original distance between the two of them, she stopped and took a moment to study him. His broad shoulders and the proud way he stood gave him a striking appearance even from behind. _This is it._ She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and pulled the cloak off her.

"James," she said simply, and then inwardly cringed at the seemingly inappropriate use of his first name.

He quickly whipped around and stretched his arms behind him, hiding his hands from her. At the sight of Hermione, his face broke into a big, sudden smile so that she looked behind to make sure it was really directed at her. He could not be _that_ happy to see her. James closed the remaining gap between them.

"You came," he said, his lips still curved upward.

"Yes, I—"

"For you." James pulled his hands from his back and presented Hermione with a bouquet of white and red roses. Hermione blinked and looked up at him in surprise. "I picked them myself, didn't conjure them out of midair." He gave her another smile.

_Please stop smiling,_ Hermione pleaded silently as she took the flowers from him. "Thank you. But what are these for?"

"Oh, there's no occasion," he answered carelessly. "It's just that they're beautiful, and—so are you." He was still smiling, but his eyes were anxious, watching how she would react.

And Hermione did not know what to do. A sense of déjà vu was eating at her mind, but she was sure nothing of this sort had ever happened to her before. No man had ever been this sweet to her. Harry never gave her flowers on just any ordinary day. But the idea that something of this sort had happened before, only she couldn't remember when and where, was not the only thought that was bothering her. James Potter, her boyfriend's father, and married to Lily Evans… _Oh, Merlin.__He's taking it further_. Did she really want him to, or did she not? She knew she should not, but she found herself irresistibly attracted to him. It would have been so much easier if he just stayed away. But he was forcing her to face it like an adult—whatever it was that existed between them.

Her silence troubled him. "Hermione?" he said tentatively.

She smiled uncertainly at him, and the crease between his eyebrows disappeared. "I like them. Thank you." She paused, as though wondering where to start. "It's kind of late, James—I'm sorry, may I call you James?"

James laughed. "I actually like it when you call me James."

Hermione blushed, grateful for the cover the night offered, but feeling more at ease with his relaxed manner. "Yes, well. As I was saying, it's kind of late, but you said we needed to talk? About what?"

"You know exactly what we need to talk about." His features suddenly became more serious. "Would you mind if we take a walk while we're talking?"

"No, no." A walk was exactly what Hermione needed to keep her from staring at his face. She found more reasons to like him the longer she saw him.

They walked in silence for a few moments, Hermione marvelling at the fact that she was with the man that she had dreamt of loving day and night. _Stay cool, Hermione. Wait for him to talk first._ James soon broke the silence. "I couldn't sleep. Did I wake you?"

She smiled faintly. "Yes, but—"

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't mind."

James smiled. "Thank you for saying that." He paused as he thought about what he wanted to tell her. There was quite a lot, which was why he had requested to see her. He was hoping whatever she would say would shed some light on some of the things that had been troubling him lately. "Hermione, do you remember when I told you the night of that dinner—" He grimaced because it was uncomfortable for him to remember Harry when he was with Hermione. "When I told you that you reminded me of someone?"

Hermione nodded, wondering where this conversation was going to lead. "Yes, but that you couldn't remember who that someone is."

"I still cannot. But somehow I knew that whoever she was, she was somebody special to me. When I saw you that night, it was as though something long and deeply buried inside of me had awakened, as though I had finally found what I've lost, whatever it was." He pulled at his hair in frustration. "I know it doesn't make sense, but it was like I've known you before. And I don't understand why I'm feeling this way."

"Do you know, you just put into words what has been bothering me too," Hermione answered quietly. James looked at her with surprise. "But unlike you, I have been thinking about it since the first time I saw you, way back when I was in second year. When I learned you were Harry's—" She swallowed a lump of guilt. "When I learned you were his father, I thought that was just the reason why you looked familiar. Because he looked so much like you. But it was also during the night of that dinner that something in my heart told me my connection with you went deeper than that you're Harry's father." She gave a small laugh. "It really is strange, isn't it? And like you, I don't understand why. Or even how."

James pondered what she just said. "I was hoping you could give me some answers, but it seems like we're both looking for them." The memory of kissing Hermione in his office filled his mind. "I know I've known you before, Hermione. I know that because when I kissed you, it was different from kissing any other woman…" The words reminded him of Lily, but he drove her image away in his head. "It was different, but it wasn't new."

Hermione felt a burning shame consume her when he brought up that incident in his office. Somehow, it was different when she was alone thinking about it. But if he could talk about it, then so could she. "I'm sorry I can't help you understand why."

"Maybe you can." He stopped walking and turned to face her. "You see, during that time, the issue that you reminded me of someone I could not remember was not very important to me anymore. It was the fact that I found you very attractive, even when you did not remind me of her. Even when you're Hermione Granger."

He reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. His lips were curved in a sad smile. "I thought I still had control over what I felt when I rebuked you for coming too close. After all, I am not some silly little teenager who cannot control his desires. But when I gave in to the temptation that was you, when I kissed you, I finally lost the war I had been waging with myself. I feel something very strong for you, Hermione. I do not know if it is love. I am hoping it is not love, for everybody's sake. Not when you and I have something going for us in our own lives. Not when it's just so wrong, whichever way I choose to look at it."

Hermione was so taken aback with his candour, with the way his voice vibrated with emotion. She suddenly regretted calling him by his first name, as it set the tone for a more romantic nature between them. "Minister—"

Pain flashed in James's eyes. "Don't remind me of that now, Hermione. Please."

"What do you want me to say?" Hermione's eyes were filled with mingled confusion and anguish as she looked at him. "One of us has to be reasonable about this." She felt she had to say as much, even when she really didn't want to.

James could not believe what he was hearing. "We can deal with reason later. Tell me how you feel about what I just said, about me. Tell me you don't feel the same way. Or better yet, tell me that you do."

Unspoken emotions raged between them before Hermione managed a wistful smile. "I had been fascinated with you ever since I'd known you, as anybody who grew up on tales of you would have been. Champion Gryffindor Seeker. One of the Marauders. The hero who conquered the Dark Lord. Minister of Magic. You were _the_ James Potter, and I worshipped you."

Now that she had started, she could no longer hold herself back. She stepped closer to him and gently laid his palm on his face. "It didn't hurt, of course, that I found you so good-looking even then. I thought to myself that if I was ever to marry a man, it would be you. Or someone like you." Her eyes dropped to the ground. "Sometimes I think I'm only with Harry because… because he is the closest I'll ever get to having you."

James didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at her words. He pulled her to him with no resistance from her and felt her rest her cheek on his left shoulder. He closed his eyes as he entwined his fingers in her thick brown curls and deeply inhaled the vanilla scent that was as seductive as she. A feeling so raw filled him, and he was shocked to realise that it was happiness.

"I don't see why we should be talking about this, James," Hermione murmured, "when what we feel doesn't matter."

"You're right," James said, stroking the back of her neck. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to care about what was right or wrong when he was holding her like this. "So what do you want to do?"

Hermione tilted her face up to look at him and gave a small laugh. "I want to stay like this forever, James, just you and me. But life never asked me what I wanted." She gazed at him sadly. "You should've asked me instead what the right thing to do is. But I guess you did not because you already know what it is. We both know what it is."

"Knowing it, and even understanding why, doesn't make it easier to do."

Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself to say the words they were both dreading. "Our only option now is to not nurture what we have. It would be easier for both of us if we try to keep out of each other's way." _But in the end, what was felt would be more real than what was chosen._ There was one question she wanted to ask him, but felt that it was too soon for her to do so and that it was too presumptuous on her part.

"You mean because we really do not know what we feel for each other, if it really is worth fighting for." James had read her doubts perfectly. "Do you… love me, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed. She honestly did not know yet. "Maybe not enough, James, to risk everything by being with you." She looked at him squarely. "What about you? I doubt you would want to trade your family, and everything else, just for me." The look on James's face was admission enough, and the truth cut her deeply.

James's eyes were shadowed with defeat, but he knew Hermione was right. There was no other way. They had to give up what was between them while it was early, quit while they were ahead. James felt the strength draining from him, but there would be time to be miserable later. He attempted to make light of the situation. "You're right. We should stop. So when do we start?" he asked half-jokingly, with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Right now, I guess," Hermione replied uncertainly. Somehow she felt reluctant to step back from his warmth, from his touch.

He grinned as he read the internal struggle reflected in Hermione's eyes. It made her look vulnerable, feminine. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. "It's quarter to twelve on my time right now. What do you say we start at twelve-oh-one?"

James was buying them time, but Hermione could not refuse it. Right or wrong, real or not, both of them could not deny that there was something special between them. "What are we going to do until then?"

Hermione watched as James took out his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the stadium. Seconds later she saw a Firebolt speeding towards them, and ducked just as he caught it by its handle.

"I didn't know you own a Firebolt," Hermione said, admiring what was undoubtedly the best broom in the world. Harry owned one too, and it had helped him win many Quidditch championships for Gryffindor.

"One of the little luxuries," James said. "I brought it because I wanted to take you flying."

Hermione smiled, feeling bathed in a warm glow. "You think of everything, don't you? Like leaving the door of the castle unlocked."

"Of course." James flashed another smile, this time genuine. He wanted these last few minutes with her to be perfect. "I had to make tonight a night to remember." He angled the broom so that it was almost parallel and lay low to the ground. "So what about the broom ride?"

Hermione removed her arms around him and looked warily at the broom. "I've never flown."

James tilted his head to one side and looked at her with surprise. "You've never flown?" he echoed. _Didn't Harry ever take her flying?_

"Except when you smile at me, of course," Hermione said shyly. "But on a broomstick, no, never."

He smiled at her, and true to her words, Hermione felt like she was on cloud nine. "I'm glad your first time's with me. You will go with me, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, anywhere. Just say the word." She got on the broom before James, who positioned himself behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kicked his feet off the ground. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the broom handle tightly as she felt her feet leave the ground.

"Just lean back against me, keep your grip on the handle, and open your eyes," James whispered in her ear. Hermione did as she was told. "Are you still scared?"

Hermione shook her head, her hair brushing his face. "No, James. Not with you." And she wasn't, really, not anymore, even when James accelerated and they began manoeuvring through the Quidditch hoops and reached the height of the Astronomy Tower. They were riding in silence, enjoying the wind whipping across their faces and the quiet sight of the world below.

"This is the best feeling in the world," James said a few minutes later. "Flying and being with you."

Hermione had to agree. Flying made her feel like she was on top of the world, that nothing could harm her. Not when she was up there, and certainly not with him holding her.

James checked his watch once more and saw that they had seven minutes to go before the hour struck twelve. He directed the Firebolt once more towards the Astronomy Tower and expertly landed on its rooftop. He assisted her as she got off the broomstick and left it lying on the floor.

"Did you enjoy it?" James asked her tenderly as he cupped her face and fanned his thumb over her right cheek.

Hermione nodded, too enamoured with him to speak. Her breath totally left her when he placed his mouth gently on hers. Kissing him as though it was her first kiss ever, or the last one she would ever be granted, she closed her eyes and recorded all the imprints being impressed on her senses: his smell that was so consummately male; the warmth of his skin against hers; the strength of his body as his arms tightly enclosed her waist; the rough ends of his longish hair that her fingertips glanced as they rested on his shoulders; his intoxicating taste as she opened herself to him. It was different from their first kiss—it wasn't angry or spiteful, but honest and sweet, and bordered on reverence.

James lifted his mouth an inch from hers to look at her face, which was flushed with passion. Her eyes were closed, emphasizing her long thick lashes, and her head was thrown back—the portrait of submission. He knew it would be very easy to take her as his that very moment.

And then, as though aware of her loss, she opened her eyes and stared at him dazedly. "How much time do we have left?" she murmured.

"Five more minutes, maybe."

Hermione shifted her hand to his nape, stood on tiptoes and drew him in for another kiss. James sank his fingers into her hair and felt all reason leave him again. His body was developing a physical urge that could not be satiated by kisses alone, but no. _No._ He was not going to act on it.

His mouth left hers and skimmed all over her face. "We have to go inside now," he whispered. Her eyes fluttered open, and the sexiness of that gesture did not go unnoticed by James. His imagination went into overdrive as he pictured waking up to such a scene.

Without another word, they entered the castle and made their way back to the Gryffindor tower, hands clasped together. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, they stopped and turned to look at each other searchingly.

"This is it, then," Hermione said, "the end of our little rendezvous." She did not want to say goodbye just yet. "Goodnight, James." Her eyes misted and a smile flitted across her lips. _I will never forget this night, or you._ But such words were best left unsaid.

James was staring intensely at her, as though willing her to change her mind. After a few more moments, he sighed and conceded. "Goodnight." He sealed his words by brushing his lips against hers, and the passion between them flared up again, maybe even more strongly than before. He delved more deeply into her mouth with his tongue and felt his pulse quicken as she gasped catchy, breathy sounds in her throat. He wanted to go on kissing Hermione Granger forever.

His lips left hers and burnt a trail down her neck while his hands swept up and down her body, appreciating its curves. He groaned with pleasure and approval as Hermione grounded her hips against his and kneaded his back with her exploring hands.

A clock struck somewhere in the castle. It was time. James unwillingly disentangled himself from her. Hermione gave a tiny moan of protest at the sudden cold. Her knees trembled. James supported her at the waist until she was able to stand steadily on her own.

"_Mimbulus mimbletonia,_" James told the Fat Lady. The door swung open to admit them. Hermione bit her lower lip as though to relish the remnants of their kiss and looked at him, her brown eyes poignant with sadness and tenderness. "Goodnight."

He gave a small nod, throat too constricted to speak. He watched her enter the doorway and slowly close the door. It was some time before he realised that he was still staring at the wooden panels, wishing he could be on the other side with her.

* * *

"James?" Remus Lupin called as he knocked on the door of his friend's temporary quarters at Hogwarts. Nobody answered. _He must be asleep_. He knocked harder. "James?" Remus tried the doorknob, and to his surprise, found it unlocked. Frowning, he turned the knob all the way and pushed the door open.

The room was dark. "_Lumos_," he whispered with his wand aloft. Nobody was in sight, but the bed was made. Everything seemed to be in their proper places. Remus wondered where James had gotten to. _Probably went for a walk, or went home with Lily._

He quickly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. "_Nox._" The light at the tip of his wand went off. Remus retraced his steps back to his own room and took out the Marauder's Map from the bottom drawer of his desk. He unrolled the parchment and laid it out on his table. He tapped it once with his wand and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Remus scanned the map once it was completely formed. Everyone in the castle seemed to be in bed already—except him. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and was preparing to return the map to its drawer when a pair of bubbles too close to each other for the names inside them to be readable caught his attention. _What would anybody be doing atop the Astronomy Tower?_

"What else indeed?" Remus murmured to himself. The Astronomy Tower, dating back to his days at school, was the place for cosy Hogwarts couples. Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned closer to the map and squinted at the letters.

_James Potter_, he grinned as he read the name. Trust James to go wandering around at night. But who was he with? Why didn't the name look like Lily's? He couldn't be with anybody but Lily. Remus concentrated on the squiggly shapes and suddenly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He jerked his head upwards in shock. _It couldn't be._ His eyes were now wide with wariness and his mind was in a quandary. _Should Dumbledore know about this? _Dumbledore was right all along, and he needed to know how this was developing. _The time is near._

And then just as suddenly, the need to report to Dumbledore what he had just discovered evaporated as he remembered everything his friend had gone through before now. Pity and happiness, shaded by his own jealousy, filled his heart as he came to his decision. _No. Not this time. I owe James that much and more._

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was on his nightly security rounds, sipping his hot chocolate, when muffled voices from the hallway near the door to the Gryffindor common room reached his ears. Craning his neck towards the source of the sounds, he detected both a man and a woman's voices.

He inched towards the turn that led to that corridor, flattened himself against the wall and slowly peered around the corner, wondering if he was going to have to tell off students who were out of bed and which ones were they. _One of the Weasley twins, most likely_.

The headmaster almost dropped his cup at the sight of the Minister of Magic and Hogwarts' Head Girl in a heated embrace, both of them mindless with desire. He watched, riveted, as James groaned with gratification and Hermione pressed herself even closer to him. A grim mood gripped him. He swiftly turned his back on them and walked away, his brain sifting through all that he had seen tonight.

_Soon. Very soon. _

It was what he feared.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I hope you didn't notice the length of this chapter while reading it (aka I hope you weren't bored), because it's really long! Haha. I enjoyed writing about Hermione and James's rendezvous. Please tell me if you think I should somewhat shorten the chapters. Remus and Dumbledore are going to play significant roles in the story, so even if it's not that clear yet, it will be soon. :) Don't forget to review, as it's just a click away:)

Special thanks once more to my beta, Bobbey, who does it like nobody else can. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **Contrary to most time-travel fics that pair up Hermione with somebody else, Hermione in this story shows what she can and will do to get what she wants. Thus, instead of her being swept back through time against her will, Hermione this time deliberately devises a plan of turning back time to further her own interests. :) By the way, some of the spells or magical stuff here were self-invented. Hehe. The title is French, and means "The Grand Project". I would also like to thank those who have reviewed and have not yet been acknowledged so far: **Nynaeve80**, **Tina**, **TheAlmightyCheezIt**, **Gueneviere**, **AlexiDrake** and **Obsession**. You encourage me. :)

**Chapter Summary: **Hermione has discovered a way to be together with James. An assassination plot, however, threatens the success of the project even before it has started.

* * *

**Chapter 6: ****Le Grand Projet**

_Heart, don't fail me now__  
Courage, don't desert me  
Don't turn back now that we're here.  
Somewhere down this road  
I know someone's waiting  
Years of dreams just can't be wrong  
Arms will open wide  
I'll feel safe and wanted  
Finally home where I belong.  
I will never be complete  
Until I find you.  
One step at a time  
One hope, then another  
Who knows where this road may go?  
Back to who I was  
On to find my future  
Things my heart still needs to know.  
Let this be a sign.  
Let this road be mine.  
Let it bring me to my past._

_--- Lynn Ahrens (Journey to the Past) ---_

_It has been two weeks. Two very long weeks since I last saw him. Back then the fact that we agreed to put an end to this craziness didn't seem so bad because he was with me, and also because somehow, I knew I would still see him around. I realise that wanting to see him means entertaining feelings I shouldn't even have. But no matter how hard I try to convince myself not to, I miss him. I miss him terribly._

Hermione folded the parchment she had been writing on and inserted it into her Defence Against the Dark Arts book. She really needed to go to Hogsmeade and buy herself a journal so that she wouldn't have to doodle on spare pieces of paper that could easily be misplaced. She then slowly pulled out that morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_ from under her book and placed it under her desk. She stared at the moving picture of James speaking on a podium, looking every bit the Minister of Magic with the determined expression on his face and his chin held high. She traced the contours of his jaw and found it cold on the paper, so unlike _that_ night.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for finding the _Daily Prophet_ more interesting than the lesson," Remus said in an uncharacteristically harsh voice.

Hermione looked up to see the Professor standing over her, his blue eyes surprisingly icy cold. She hastily tucked the newspaper into her bag, embarrassed that she had made Professor Lupin lose his temper, as very few people did. She murmured an apology, her face downcast.

Remus strode back to the front of the room with an air of briskness that he seldom displayed. "As you should have noticed, we have been dealing with offensive, not defensive, curses over the past few weeks. You have even had the honour of having the Minister come to this class for a day." His eyes strayed briefly to Hermione at the mention of his fellow Marauder, but the girl was still looking at the floor. "Most of you are probably wondering why. Does anybody _know_ why?"

Silence ensued as many students blinked and pretended to be lost in thought.

"Well, since Miss Granger seems to be keeping herself updated with what is going in the Wizarding world, perhaps she can tell us what these offence-oriented lessons are all about."

Harry frowned, wondering what had gotten into the usually mild-mannered and soft-spoken professor to make him act like this. Why was he giving Hermione a hard time with the newspaper? He glanced backwards to where Hermione was seated, staring at Professor Lupin with what seemed like suspicion and annoyance.

"It has been reported that Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard in this century, who was believed to have been defeated seventeen years ago, might actually—"

"Who is credited for defeating Voldemort?" Remus interrupted, his eyes intently watching Hermione's reaction.

_He knows something_, Hermione thought, feeling angry and close to panic at the same time. She was about to start wondering how when it hit her. _Damn. The Marauder's Map._ Professor Lupin had confiscated it from Harry years ago. Her eyes flashing, she gazed steadily at her Professor and nonchalantly answered, "James Potter. The current Minister of Magic." Her insides softened at the mere mention of his name, but she ignored it. "As I was saying, the Minister has released a statement that Voldemort might not really have been dead all these years. He suspects that Voldemort is just biding time to allow his followers, called the Death Eaters, to regroup. It is for this reason that extensive protective and precautionary measures have been recommended by the Ministry."

Harry expected Professor Lupin to credit Gryffindor at least five points for Hermione's answer, but he did not. Instead, he merely nodded. "It is important then that you are always on your guard and that you possess the skills necessary to protect yourself. You are not children anymore. In a few months you will be leaving Hogwarts, and it is likely that you will be caught up in the darkness brewing at the moment."

"Many of you here do not know anything of the First War except that it happened, if at all. Some, however, have experienced firsthand the atrocities of the war. It does not matter, as long as we do not forget. It will be the greatest sacrilege if we ever do." Remus examined his class, most of whose faces were expressionless. He smiled slightly.

"I see it does not have much of an impact on you. Let us all hope that the day when you have to choose sides in a war and fight doesn't come. Nevertheless, you still have to train."

The class sighed and pulled out their quills, parchments and wands.

Remus shook his head. "I'm letting you out of class early today so you can go to the library and get started on the assignment I'm going to give you. You have to submit an essay on dangerous magical objects—choose only one—and how you create and destroy them. Five feet of parchment, due next week. Do you have any questions?"

Ron's forehead wrinkled in confusion, but his wasn't the only one. "Isn't that more of a Charms assignment?" Murmurs of assent followed.

"Yes, it is. However, you should be capable of integrating the knowledge you've acquired from the various branches of magic by now." His students nodded, indicating that they understood. Remus smiled. "Class is dismissed. You may go."

The Gryffindors filed out of the room, most of whom made their way back to the common room. Straying from the crowd, Hermione turned right and headed straight for the library. Ron and Harry jogged to catch up with her.

"You're going to the library? At once?" Ron asked with a grimace.

Hermione shifted her bag from one shoulder to another. "I don't have anything else to do," she answered, her eyes on the floor.

"How about spending time with me down by the lake?" Harry replied, smiling amusedly at her. "We haven't been together for ages."

"Maybe later, Harry." The more she saw Harry, the more she thought of James, and the more she wanted to be with him.

"But you're not going to leave the library until much later," Harry said accusingly.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Harry. I know, and I'm sorry, but I really need to get started on this essay." With that, she turned her back to them, pushed open the glass doors of the library and entered.

The two boys stared helplessly at each other. "Do you get the feeling there's something she's not telling us?" the redhead asked.

The troubled look on Harry's face said it all. "I don't know, Ron. I don't know anything anymore."

* * *

Hermione let out a shaky breath as she placed her things down on a table. She was so relieved to finally be away from everyone. She needed some time and quiet, not so she could think about James, but so she could catch up with the work she had been ignoring for days. Unbeknownst to Ron and Harry, she had now failed to complete her previous Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts essays. That was not how she worked. Missing another essay would definitely spell detention, and Hermione Granger never got detention. Her features hardened with determination as she made her way to the shelves of books.

Minutes later, she had succeeded in locating the area of books that looked promising for her Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment. Ron was correct; the books were indeed within the section in the library dedicated to Charms. Hermione fingered the spine of _Highly Dangerous Magical Objects_, pulled it out, and returned to her table.

As Hermione flipped through the pages, it quickly became clear to her that _dangerous_ had another meaning that was usually lost on people. There were some things that anybody would call dangerous. There was what was called the Veil, the other side of which was said to belong to another dimension so that those who fell behind it were gone forever. There were cursed necklaces, books, and dolls—but then again, anything and everything could be cursed. _All things are potentially dangerous_, _even Portkeys,_ Hermione reflected as she turned to the next page, _especially when used improperly or handled unsuspectingly._

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the heading on another page. _The Time-Turner_. She remembered the one she had used back in her third year in order to fit in one day all the subjects she wanted to take. How intrigued she was by it then. Would she finally find out how it was constructed?

"_Comprised of a miniature hourglass of the finest glass, with a sandy charmed potion inside it and hanging from a chain of near-pure gold, the Time-Turner is capable of bringing its bearer back up to twenty-four hours at a time, depending on the number of backward turns of the hourglass. The Ministries of Magic possess such resources, but issue permits for its use only on a case-to-case basis. Severe restrictions are implemented for very obvious reasons. Travelling to the past entails changing the present, and not all changes may be desirable."_

The report continued with detailed accounts of people who had successfully used the Time-Turner, as well as those who had died due to what an expert described as the mental instability resulting from seeing one's self outside of one's body. Hermione could not help but snort. These people who ended up killing their past or future selves were obviously daft. Surely, they had expected meeting their very own selves before they even embarked on such a journey? She snorted again. _Idiots._

An image of James Potter floated into her mind, and she sighed. Ever since the night of their illicit rendezvous, her sleep had been permeated by dreams of the two of them together. She had expected that, certainly, except that in her dreams she was with a seventeen-year-old James. Her dreams were so vivid she was almost convinced that they were real, that they were memories. But then she'd wake up in the morning with the truth hitting her hard each time—that she never really had a chance with James. Time, and that thing they called fate, had made sure of that. Hermione had never even thought of challenging either of them.

Until now. The reminder that a Time-Turner existed had opened up all sorts of possibilities for her. There were two problems, however. One, she did not know how she was going to secure one for her personal use. Two, even if she did manage to get one, a Time-Turner only went back as far as twenty-four hours. What good is one day, one week, one month even, when she wanted to turn back years?

_First things first._ Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. _I need to get a Time-Turner for myself.__But how?_ Her mind worked its way down the possible solutions: convince Professor McGonagall to get one for her again by saying it was only for purely academic purposes, steal one from the Ministry and check the market for any possible Time-Turners for sale. Hermione wrinkled her nose. None of the above options appealed to her senses, or even seemed plausible. Procuring a Time-Turner was not her only goal—maintaining secrecy also was. From experience, that meant working alone.

"I can make one." The words were out of her mouth before she realised what she was saying. A slow smile spread over her suddenly bright face. "I can make one," she repeated, the words sounding good even to her ears. "I'm smart enough. I'm sure I can figure this one out." Feeling invigorated, she reread the text more intently in the hope of finding more explicit instructions on how to devise a Time-Turner, but ended up frowning.

"The chain, the hourglass, the potion," Hermione murmured. "Near-pure gold, that's easy. Expensive, yes, but easy. Finest glass, that's expensive and yet easy, too. The potion…" Her voice trailed off. "The potion, ultimately, is what is responsible for turning back time."

Hermione read the text for the third time. Unfortunately, it did not provide any more information on the potion—not even its name—except that it was of a sandy texture and that it was charmed. The picture of an old, thick black book swam hazily in Hermione's eyes. _Moste Potente Potions. Of course._ Hermione was very aware of the fact that the book was in the Restricted Section of the library and that she needed a signed permit from a teacher before she could access it. But getting to the book paled in comparison to all the other obstacles Hermione knew she would face before accomplishing the grand project.

_Le Grand Projet_. Hermione smiled smugly as she stood up, taking the book explaining Time-Turners to Madam Pince to check out. She had finally found a way to be with James Potter.

* * *

Remus was busy rifling through his desk drawers in search of his favourite quill when he saw a white envelope stuck between the slightly open edges of two wooden panels. Frowning, he tugged at it until it was free of its confinement. He blew the dust that had gathered on the outside, flicked the flap open and tapped it upside-down over his table.

The sound of metal clanking on glass caused recognition to dawn on his face. He gingerly picked up the necklace that had fallen, running his fingers down the cold, shiny silver chain that supported a silver moon pendant. He had forgotten about having that necklace in his possession. Memories flooded his mind, but before they could take control, he had already slid the necklace back into its envelope and had shoved it angrily in the drawer containing the Marauder's Map.

A knock on the door forced him to calm down. Remus sat in his chair, picked a quill from his desk and pretended to write. "Come in," he called out.

His temper rose when he saw Hermione, but he immediately quelled it. Hermione stepped inside his office and closed the door quickly behind her.

"Yes? What can I do for you, Hermione?" he asked curtly.

_At least he's not calling me 'Miss Granger', like he does when he's angry. _Hermione took a deep breath. "Professor, about our assignment—I was, well, I stumbled upon something that I thought needed additional research, and I needed an extra book so that I can look it up." She needed to get a grip on herself; she was babbling incoherently. "But sir, the book is in the Restricted Section, and I need your permission, and—"

"Which book is it?" Remus interrupted.

"_Moste Potente Potions_," Hermione answered, more calmly this time, taking enough care to look straight into her teacher's eyes, as though the gesture might convince him of her honesty.

Remus stared at Hermione for a very long time before answering. "You disappoint me, Miss Granger. I know a liar when I see one, even when she lies as beautifully as you do."

Hermione flushed against her will. "Professor, I am not lying. I really do need that book for your essay." She really might, if she decided to write her essay on how dangerous Time-Turners could be—only she needed to test it out on herself first.

"No, you do not," Remus countered, still piercing her with his blue eyes. "You need it for something else, and though I do not know what it is for, I know it is not for the assignment I've given you." He pondered her for another moment, his mouth set in a grim line. "You may try asking your other teachers if they will give you a permit, but I believe you will need to think up a better excuse than the one you have given me today in order to convince them."

Hermione hung her head so he wouldn't see the fury reflected in her eyes, but she did not doubt he sensed it anyway. "Thank you for your time, Professor. I am very sorry I disturbed you," she answered stiffly. She turned her back to him and reached out for the doorknob.

"One more piece of advice, Miss Granger."

_What now? Is he going to berate me about James?_ Hermione looked back at him, her expression defiant. "Yes, Professor?"

"I don't see any need for a strong love potion because he seems to be very taken with you already, doesn't he? But be careful, Miss Granger. Be very careful if you don't want to get hurt."

Hermione had heard enough. She left the room and slammed the door angrily behind her.

* * *

It was nearing midnight, but Hermione still lay tossing in her bed. Her mind kept replaying the disastrous incident in Professor Lupin's office. It bothered her that he seemed to know more than he should and that he obviously didn't like what he knew, but that was not the only thing that was keeping her up. If she could not get the book through legal means, and it was becoming clear that she really could not, then she would have to sneak it out. She had made up her mind that she would do so tonight, before she lost her nerve. When all she could hear were snores, she jumped quietly out of bed and lit the tip of her wand wordlessly with a spell. She then rummaged in her trunk for the Invisibility Cloak James had lent her, draped it over her body, and softly made her way out of Gryffindor tower.

She treaded carefully down the corridors to the library, fervently praying she would not be meeting anybody tonight, most especially the Hogwarts caretaker. When she reached the glass doors, she pushed at them and discovered they were locked. Hermione picked her wand from her pocket. She tapped at the brass handles and said, "_Alohomora!_"

To her surprise the doors opened at once with that single spell. _Talk about security._ Hermione was correct in assuming that the library was not that strictly protected, for who would want to steal books anyway when the average student detested them? She walked towards the Restriction Section, still making as little noise as possible. She passed the tip of her wand along the spines of the shelved books until she found what she was looking for. Shivering slightly from both the cold and the knowledge that she had succeeded, she fumbled in pulling the book out and almost dropped it because of its immense weight. Hermione held the book to her body with one arm, ensuring that the cloak also covered it well.

A soft mewing at her heels alerted her that Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was still up prowling the school. It meant that the caretaker was still around. Hermione quickened her pace until she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was sleeping. She pulled the cloak off her and rapped on the door.

The Fat Lady stirred, but slept on. Hermione knocked harder. The Fat Lady opened one bleary eye. "What time of the night do you call this?" she asked irritably.

"_Mimbulus mimbletonia_," Hermione said firmly, not wanting to argue with the portrait. The Fat Lady seemed to have been too sleepy to put up any further challenge and instead swung open to admit her. Hermione raced up the stairs back to her dormitory. She jumped into her bed and under the covers, lit her wand, and rifled feverishly through the pages.

"There's got to be ten thousand pages in this book," Hermione muttered as she flipped from one page to the next in search of that potion she needed. "There has to be a more efficient way of doing this."

A spell from one of the German books she read came back to her mind. Hermione closed the book and tapped it with her wand. "_Suchen Time-Turner_," she whispered. She watched in amazement as the pages were flicked from the front cover to the back as though by an invisible finger. When the last page of the book was turned and the back cover had shut the book closed, it fell silent, seemingly no different than before, except for a faint glow emitted by the edge of one page somewhere in the middle.

Hermione held her breath. Was it really going to be that easy to find the potion she needed? She carefully opened the book to that glowing page and quickly scanned its contents. _Main component of the Time-Turner._ Excitement shot through her as she returned to the top of the page and started reading more thoroughly. Her eyes travelled down the list of ingredients, most of which were available either in her potions kit or in any apothecary. She reviewed the list, and her eyes were drawn to one element of the potion. _Fine ferromagnetic particles._

_It seems like the potion is more of a mixture than a solution_, Hermione contemplated as she pondered the rationale behind the use of magnetic particles. She was recalling everything she had ever learned in Astronomy, but her drooping eyelids wouldn't cooperate. She waved her wand over the page entitled _Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad_ and over a blank parchment, enabling her to copy the page word for word. Hermione rolled up the parchment and hid it in her trunk. Sighing sleepily, she slid out of bed, covered herself with the Invisibility Cloak once more, and retraced her steps to the library. She needed to return the book at once before anybody realised that it was missing.

It was almost one in the morning when Hermione had curled up in her bed, exhausted but pleased with the day's work. She couldn't wait to fall asleep, not only because she knew she would be with James in her sleep, but because she knew that the following sunrise would give her the opportunity to make her dreams come true.

* * *

"James?"

The Minister of Magic looked up from his paperwork to see the grinning face of his best friend, Sirius Black, peeking through the door of his office. His own face brightened. "Padfoot! Come in." James embraced Sirius and clapped him once on the back, and then pulled away. "How thoughtful of you to have dropped in."

Sirius smirked at him. "Oh, Prongsie, you know how I missed you," he said in a mock sweet voice, a mischievous twinkle in his grey eyes. He leaned forward and jokingly attempted to kiss him. James burst out laughing and pushed him away.

"So what brings you here?" James asked as he returned to his seat and gestured at Sirius to do the same. "Is it good news or bad news?"

"Neither," Sirius answered as he propped his long legs up on the chair opposite him. "Hogsmeade weekend is on Saturday, before the Halloween feast, and I thought we should start stationing some Aurors in the village." Sirius Black was Head of Auror Division. "What do you think?"

James's heart started beating a little faster at the mention of Hogwarts students, but he chose to ignore it. "I guess there's nothing wrong with employing preemptive measures."

Sirius grinned once more. "I knew you'd agree," he said. "I'm going to Hogsmeade now. Do you want to come with me? You look like you could use a good time."

"I do?" James passed a hand self-consciously over his face.

Sirius laughed. "Yes, you do. Leave this hole for a while. We'll stop by the Three Broomsticks, and I'll teach you how to have a good time."

James smiled wryly. "Let's skip the booze, Sirius. But I sure would love to do something else besides sitting here. Thanks for wanting some company."

"What are best friends for?" Sirius shrugged. "I'll be sending out orders in five minutes. I'll meet you at the Broomsticks in half an hour or so."

* * *

Hermione had woken up that same morning with a smile on her face. Even with only six hours of sleep, she felt refreshed and inexplicably happy. She had packed the copy of _Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad_ in her bag, as well as three pouches of money that amounted to almost three hundred Galleons, before going to her first lesson. The money came from the extra her parents had been sending her every Christmas, birthday, and whenever they were feeling generous. She had kept the money with her at Hogwarts instead of at Gringotts, well-protected in her own charmed vault, so that she could easily access it anytime. Hermione had taken out some of that money in the hope that she would be able to sneak into Hogsmeade during her two-hour break after lunch to buy the glass, chain, and potion ingredients.

She left the Great Hall after a hurried lunch, much to Harry and Ron's protests. Making her way to the third floor, she cautiously approached the statue of a hump-backed, one-eyed witch that stood halfway along one corridor. She tapped the witch lightly with her wand, muttered "_Dissendium!_", and watched as the hump opened up to reveal the secret passageway to Honeydukes. She had often used this route with Ron and Harry in the past. Hermione carefully climbed in and closed the hump behind her. She lit the tip of her wand and crawled down the dark tunnel for what seemed like an hour until she felt the passage rise up. She came to the foot of the worn stone steps and began to climb up the stairs, using her palms to feel the way ahead of her. When her hands encountered the trapdoor, she pushed it open and climbed out into the cellar of Honeydukes.

Hermione made her way to the top floor of the store and stealthily snuck out, thankful for the customers that surrounded the counter and obscured her from view. She breathed a sigh of relief once she was out in the sunshine, strolling along the streets of Hogsmeade. Hermione pushed open the doors of the glass blowing store, the twinkling chimes announcing her arrival.

"Good afternoon, Miss," the proprietor, a middle-aged man with a balding head and a bushy moustache, greeted her.

"Good afternoon," Hermione answered with a smile. She looked around the store, taking note of the glass sculptures that surrounded her. "You make all these wonderful pieces of art?"

The man bowed. "Certainly, Miss. My employees and I are very skilled in glass carving. Perhaps you should look around to see if there's anything you fancy? Or do you require something a little more personal?"

"Something a little more personal, I think," Hermione replied with another sweet smile. "I was wondering if you could make me a miniature hourglass?"

His eyes widened slightly, but he recovered fast. "About how long, Miss? Would an inch do?"

Hermione nodded smartly. "You must use the finest glass in creating that hourglass, no matter how expensive it is. I don't care about the price or anything at all, except that you have to do it right." She flashed another charming smile. "I'll pay you extra if you keep this transaction a secret." She reached into her bag and took out a small money pouch. "How much will the hourglass alone cost?"

"That will amount to fifty-one Galleons, twelve Sickles and twenty-six Knuts."

Hermione smiled. It was cheaper than she had expected. She counted out 70 Galleons and handed it to the man. "I suppose this is enough?"

The man gave another bow. "It is more than enough, Miss. When will you come to get it?"

"Perhaps this weekend. Is that okay?"

He nodded. "Certainly, Miss. I'll have it ready by then."

Hermione murmured thanks and gracefully sailed out the door. After half an hour of traipsing through Hogsmeade, she had finally located the jewellery store situated at the far end of the village. She breezed in through the door and immediately talked business with the store owner.

"A twenty-four-carat gold chain?" the owner repeated, stunned.

"Yes," Hermione replied calmly. "Don't you have any?"

The owner shook her blond head. "Of course we do, Miss, but this one here," she said, pointing to one that was on display, "costs less and is of excellent quality too. Eighteen carats."

Hermione frowned in irritation. "The price is not really an issue. Now, if you're not willing to sell your gold to me, I'll leave and accomplish my transactions with other stores."

"Oh, no! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so impolite. It's just that it's very seldom that a customer as young as you asks for something that expensive." She disappeared into the backroom and returned with a small velvet box. "Here it is, Miss. Have a look first." She handed the box to Hermione, who flipped it open and ran her fingers along the finely-woven chain, admiring the way the gold gleamed in the light. One flick of her wand confirmed the authenticity and purity of the gold chain. She gave a satisfied nod at the blond woman.

"I'll take it," Hermione affirmed, returning the box and motioning for the woman to ring up her purchase.

"That will be two hundred Galleons, seven Sickles, one Knut, Miss," she said, still trembling. Hermione took out two money pouches containing a hundred Galleons each and placed them on the counter. She reached into her pockets for the extra coins while the owner opened the pouches and checked the amount inside. Satisfied, she gathered and swept the coins down the cash register. She packed the box containing the gold chain, tore off the receipt and handed it to Hermione.

"Have a nice day," she said, smiling weakly. Hermione merely nodded at her and left her store.

She returned to the main street of Hogsmeade and set off to the potion apothecary. Hermione had deliberately visited it last to ensure that she bought the most expensive parts of the Time-Turner first. Once inside the store, she gathered all the ingredients she would need, including the magnetic particles, as well as several other ingredients the potion did not require. Hermione thought it best to avoid suspicion being directed at her. She smiled disarmingly at the woman who rang up her purchases, who was chatting happily with her as though she had never sold such a large amount to anybody before.

After leaving the apothecary, Hermione glanced at her timepiece and saw that she still had an hour and fifteen minutes left before her next class. Tired, thirsty, and desperately craving the taste of butterbeer, Hermione gave in to her impulse and decided to pass by the Three Broomsticks before returning to Honeydukes.

She pushed open the door to the tavern and was surprised to see it almost full of people so early in the afternoon. Hermione quickly made her way to the counter and signalled to Madam Rosmerta for attention. "One butterbeer, please," she nearly shouted over the conversations around her. The pretty, curvaceous bargirl that had long been the object of Ron's affections looked at her in surprise, probably because she recognised the Hogwarts uniform, but just grinned.

"The Weasleys must have taught you how to sneak out of Hogwarts into Hogsmeade, huh?" Madam Rosmerta said, shaking her head in amusement. "I'll get your drink, Miss Granger, if you'll just wait over there." She gestured towards a lone blank table on the right side of the store. Hermione thanked her and paid for her drink before making her way to the table.

One voice stood out above the din inside the Broomsticks. Swivelling in her chair towards the sound of the voice, Hermione looked and saw, with a thrill of excitement, that it belonged to James Potter. Her lips dried and her pulse accelerated at the sight of him, the one man she had been longing to see for weeks. James was standing beside Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, and was busy speaking to around thirty people, all of whom Hermione was sure were Aurors from their uniforms. Hermione admired, once more, the authoritative way with which he held himself. He looked even more handsome when he was like that. Her heart was beating painfully fast. Oh, how she loved this man.

The thought shocked her. _Love? Wasn't it a little late for that?_ She shook her head as though the action would rid her mind of such ideas. It was one thing to find him attractive against her will, downright dangerous to entertain the idea of being in love with him.

The creaky sound of the door being opened distracted Hermione, and she inclined her head towards it, noting the entry of two tall figures, their faces obscured by the black hoods they wore. Hermione's spine tingled with unease, but none of the other customers seem to have noticed their entrance. The two hooded figures occupied a small table near the door, but Hermione noticed how each one's hand twitched restlessly inside their own pockets. Hermione slid her own hand inside the pocket of her own robes and felt her wand. Her eyes widened. _Wands._

Madam Rosmerta set down the bottle of butterbeer on her table, and Hermione murmured thanks just as she walked away. She then squinted at the two hooded figures, trying to gauge what their intentions were. She watched as the two bent their heads towards each other as though they were discussing in whispers. One of them nodded as the other looked sharply in James's direction. Hermione's blood ran cold. She stood up at once and stealthily wove her way to where James was standing, glancing back at the hooded men once in a while. Both of them were still gazing unrelentingly at the Minister, who wasn't even aware of their presence. Hermione ignored the panic threatening to overwhelm her and quickened her pace even more.

Hermione had barely reached the table Sirius was occupying when she heard the ruthlessly cold voice utter the words she had been dreading.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**_Suchen_ is the German word for search (I think), and _Solucion Contraria el Forzar de Gravedad_ is Spanish. Roughly translated, it means a "potion against the force of gravity". Please comment if I have wrongly strung the words together. Don't forget to review:)

By the way, somebody from another site has commented on my wrong usage of Floo powder, as well as on my wrong mental map of Diagon Alley. In the first chapter I have included Honeydukes and Zonko's in Diagon Alley; only when I was writing this chapter did I realise that Honeydukes and Zonko's are in Hogsmeade. Big, big error. Haha. That said, I shall revise the previous chapters accordingly.

Another piece of news: I have finally found a beta:) So this is probably my last chapter for a while as we're still trying to get to know each other and discuss on the previous chapters. :)

**Second Notes:** The initial _Solucion Contraria el Forzar de Gravedad_ was changed to _Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad_, as per suggestion of Emily, who was kind enough to suggest a more correct Spanish phrase for it. Thank you! Thank you:)

I checked the map of Hogsmeade and could not find any jewellery or glass blowing store, but let's just say there are shops as such, shall we? ;)

Hugs to my beta, Bobbey, who took the effort to check the prices of the goods and converted the US dollars to Wizard money—hence the specific number of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. It is because of her that this chapter makes so much more sense than it originally did. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **The title came from a song by Leann Rimes, "The Right Kind of Wrong". This chapter was originally posted under the title "Journey to the Past", but I halved the original seventh chapter because it was too long, as suggested by my beta, Bobbey. I have also revised it to improve Harry and Hermione's characterisation. So there. I apologise for the confusion. Enjoy:) Thanks again to my excellent beta, Bobbey, who gave me very sound advice regarding Harry and Hermione's characterisation and who painstakingly went over grammar and style as well.

**Chapter Summary: **Hermione tackles the creation of a Time-Turner amidst the many misgivings she still has.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Right Kind of Wrong**

_Down an unknown road to embrace my fate  
Though the road may wander  
It will lead me to you.  
And a thousand years would be worth the wait  
It might take a lifetime  
But somehow I'll see it through.  
And I won't look back  
I can go the distance.  
And I'll stay on track  
No, I won't accept defeat.  
It's an uphill slope but I won't lose hope  
Till I go the distance and my journey is complete._

_--- David Zippel (Go the Distance) ---_

_No!_

Hermione tackled James to the floor just as the deadly jet of green light streaked past where he had been standing and shattered the far wall of the pub. She pressed her face to his chest in fright and felt his large hands cover her head from the chunks of concrete that whizzed everywhere.

Sirius, along with the other Aurors, already had their wands raised. "_Stupefy!_" they cried in unison, pointing towards where the Killing Curse came from, but the two hooded figures had already slipped out the door.

"After them!" Sirius thundered. Two of the Aurors nearest the door sprinted out in pursuit of the assassins. "Damn! They've had a head start and had probably already Apparated out of Hogsmeade." Sirius let out a string of expletives and looked around to see people straightening up from under the tables they had used for protection. They were glaring at them with mingled wonder, suspicion, and fear. He gestured to his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, who was also an Auror. "Go check if everybody is safe." Tonks nodded and dragged another Auror with her to the other side of the room.

With the upheaval somewhat over, Hermione lifted her head and locked gazes with James, whose eyes widened in recognition as though he had not realised who she was before now. He gently but hurriedly pushed her off him and sat up.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked before James could say anything, her eyes filled with concern.

James opened his mouth and closed it again, then looked at her as though he could hardly believe what he was hearing. "You just saved me. Of course, I'm alright. It's you I'm worried about. Are you hurt?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. But you could have been killed, Jam—Minister," she corrected hastily. She shuddered as she thought of what could have happened had she reacted just one second too late.

Sirius knelt down beside James and inspected him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, James?" he asked, turning to the woman sitting with them without waiting for an answer. "Hermione? What are you doing here?" Sirius questioned incredulously. Before Hermione could reply, however, he gave a booming laugh. "Never mind that now. Thank you for saving this idiot of a Minister that we have."

James cast a nasty glance at Sirius. "Sure, like you weren't an idiot for not noticing those two Death Eaters."

"I wasn't talking about that, or we would all be at fault," Sirius replied, laughing again. "I was talking about what an idiot you were for not even thanking her." He wagged his index finger warningly. "Pretty bad showing for a future father-in-law."

"I was about to thank her before you interrupted," James answered, getting to his feet and helping Hermione up as well. The softness of her hand in his brought back memories better uncalled for, so he let go as soon as he could. "You should be on your way back to school, Hermione."

"Not so fast, not so fast," Sirius interjected jovially. "How's my godson?"

James and Hermione instinctively turned to look at each other at the mention of Harry, but both looked away quickly. "Oh, he's fine. Still the same old Harry, you know," Hermione answered vaguely. "I'm sorry, Mr. Black, but the Minister is right. I really have to go back to school or I'm going to be late for my next class." She smiled at him.

Sirius wrinkled his nose. "Oh, okay. I keep forgetting you're less of a rule-breaker than most people."

"Than you, you mean," Hermione snorted. His comment about her being a stickler for rules annoyed her. "So this doesn't count then? Sneaking out of school just to visit the village?"

Sirius waved an elegant hand as he dismissed her answer. "Maybe a little. But if you had been really adventurous, you would have skipped the rest of your afternoon classes." Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in horror. Sirius laughed. "Like I said."

"I've broken a lot more school rules than just skipping class," Hermione answered loftily. "And I'm sure I'd taken on far more exciting adventures in my seven years at Hogwarts than you ever did on all those occasions."

"What, the troll and the basilisk?" Sirius asked, humouring her. "How very noble. Certainly a far cry from the times I used to sneak out of the castle to snog any pretty girl of my choice."

A small smile appeared on Hermione's face as she remembered when she herself had snuck out of the castle to be with James. _If Sirius only knew_.

"Don't listen to him," James said, frowning slightly. "It's not wise to miss class without a _valid_ reason."

Sirius shrugged. "Well, if your Minister-of-Magic of a father-in-law says so, then I guess you should comply." He winked at her, and she smiled despite his words. "Stay safe, Hermione. Say hello to Harry for me." He looked at James. "I guess I should fix things up around here."

James nodded. "Thanks. One more thing, Sirius—I'd appreciate it if this doesn't hit the news." _For more reasons than one._ He then turned to Hermione. "I'm going with you to Honeydukes. It's not safe to wander around alone."

"I actually think she will be in more danger if you're with her, Prongs," Sirius wisecracked.

"At least I'm safer with her than with you," James joked back. "So much for supposedly being the best Auror there is." He glanced at Hermione. "Where are your things?"

Hermione gestured in the direction of the table she had occupied earlier and started making her way to it. James trailed after her just as Sirius said, "If you're not back in fifteen minutes, I'm going to send out a search party!"

James gave a small laugh that was deep and throaty, a sound that made Hermione shiver. When they reached her table, he wordlessly reached for her large shopping bag and motioned towards the door, allowing her to exit first. They walked in silence for a few moments, Hermione several steps ahead of him and still increasing her pace.

"Where's the fire?" James asked with a grin as he lengthened his strides to catch up with her.

Hermione looked at him, seemingly unsure of what to do, and then looked away again.

It was then that James remembered that he had not properly thanked her. "Hermione, don't think I've forgotten." She arched one eyebrow in question. "I'm sorry for being brusque about it, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe before anything else. Thank you for saving my life."

There was a pause, and then Hermione smiled, her features softening. "You're welcome." She took a deep breath. "You should be more careful, you know."

"Oh, I've been on Voldemort's death list for years now. It's one of the occupational hazards of being the Minister," James answered light-heartedly, replacing the smile on Hermione's face with a frown. _Actually, I've been on the list far longer than I've been Minister,_ he corrected himself.

"If I had known you were so flippant about it, I would have let the curse hit you."

"Would you have, indeed?" James asked with a teasing smile.

Hermione's frown did not let up, and James put on a more serious expression as well. "Agonising over every attempt on my life will get me nowhere, so I've learned to deal with it by being nonchalant."

Hermione thought about that for a moment. That was so just like him, always keeping himself in check. She swallowed hard. "I understand. But I'm still scared." _Scared something bad will happen to you._

"I am too. Most of the time," James said, smiling kindly at her. "I just don't want to give my enemies the satisfaction of seeing me cower in fright or dampen my comrades' morale. It is my role to stay tough all the time."

"It must be difficult," Hermione mused.

James shrugged. "It's my responsibility to protect other people. I enjoy it, actually, to some extent." He smiled ruefully. "By the way, Hermione, never do that again."

"Do what?"

"Save my life."

Sparks flew from her eyes. "So what I did is wrong now?"

"No, but it was foolish of you to risk your life for me." James's mouth thinned into a grim line. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

_I don't want anything to happen to you either. You said it's your duty to protect others, but who will protect you?_ "Anybody would have done it. You would have, for anybody else," Hermione answered with utmost certainty.

"Except for Death Eaters, of course." James smiled that small smile of his. "I rest my case. I'll try to stay out of trouble then, or at least get into trouble when you're not around to meddle with it." Hermione blushed but refused to reply.

They continued to walk in silence as Hermione waged an internal battle inside her mind. Honeydukes was just around the corner. Was she really going to let him go without saying what she truly wanted to tell him? She sneaked a glance up at him, his face calm and handsome. Hermione lowered her eyes to her shoes.

"I've missed you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

James looked at her. "What was that?"

She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I've missed you," she repeated, louder this time, her heart pounding in her ears. _Is he going to reject me again?_

His lips curved in that tiniest of smiles she always thought was devastatingly sexy on him. "You should not be saying that."

Hermione glanced away. _That was all?_ His lack of response hurt her more than she would admit. _Well, _she admonished herself,_ what did you expect?_

"Is that why you're in Hogsmeade, because you've missed me?" James asked, his question causing her to look sharply at him.

Hermione, however, knew him well enough by now to detect the playful twinkle in his eyes. Her features relaxed into a smile. "I bought some ingredients to replenish my Potions kit. I didn't even know you were here." Her smile grew wider, and James's face brightened as he noticed that charming dimple on her left cheek. "I thought you appreciated my timely presence?"

"Certainly, except for a few sore muscles from having landed hard on my back. You certainly have some strength in you, young lady." He smiled rakishly at her and then glanced up at the wooden sign over Honeydukes. "You go in first. I'll distract the cashier so you can sneak back into the cellar." He handed her bag back and a knowing look flickered in his eyes. "I'll see you soon."

Hermione smiled shyly at him and entered the sweetshop. James entered a couple of minutes later and saw her casually looking over the chocolate bars. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments. James nodded and engaged the cashier in conversation about security measures while watching Hermione descend the stairs into the cellar out of the corner of his eyes.

When he had given Hermione enough time to climb back through the trapdoor, James fished some coins from the pockets of his robes and plunked them on the counter. "Do you sell chocolates shaped like roses?"

* * *

Hermione was surprised to see a handsome owl drop a package on her lap during dinner that night. Harry and Ron had received some mail too, and both were too busy unwrapping their posts to notice Hermione opening hers.

Her brown eyes widened when she saw three of Honeydukes best chocolates that had been fashioned into rosebuds inside the paper bag, all of which blossomed as she lightly touched their petals. Hoping against hope, she rummaged inside the bag and felt a small piece of parchment inside. She pulled it out and unfurled it.

_I do not have enough words to describe how thankful I am, so I guess I'll just say it again and again. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for saving my life. And yes, I've missed you too._

Her heart sang.

* * *

Hermione rubbed the yellow sand particles between her fingers before sprinkling some on the lit cauldron. The molten solution inside hissed and bubbled as small lumps formed. Hermione mixed the cauldron with her ladle seven times clockwise and another seven times counter-clockwise, making the concoction homogeneous in texture.

It was Sunday, a day after she revisited Hogsmeade with Ron and Harry. While the two boys were busy trying Zonko's joke products, she had muttered something about needing a journal and had slipped away quietly. In a matter of minutes, she had retrieved the hourglass she had purchased only days before and was back at Zonko's, absentmindedly keeping the boys company. She couldn't wait to return to the castle so she could start on the potion.

She was up at dawn that Sunday morning. Without breakfast and without wasting any more time, she rushed to the girls' bathroom on the second floor. Dilapidated and constantly flooded, nobody ever used this bathroom except her, Harry, and Ron—especially when they were planning things the school handbook did not technically permit.

"What are you brewing?" a nasal voice asked over her shoulder, peering interestedly through her thick spectacles.

Hermione shuddered from the contact with cold ghost flesh. "It's none of your business, Myrtle," she replied, shrugging the ghost off.

Moaning Myrtle floated toward the cauldron and sniffed at the fumes. "I don't recognise this potion."

Hermione snorted. "I doubt you would."

Hermione did not miss the look of indignation Myrtle threw at her. "You use my bathroom to plot your schemes, and yet you behave so arrogantly. Perhaps you wouldn't be so mean if I popped into another bathroom and told somebody everything that you and your friends had been doing in secret, would you? Or maybe throw this potion away when you leave later?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, yes, I would," Myrtle cackled, sounding like Peeves now. "But not if you tell me what it is," she amended in a sickeningly sweet voice.

The brunette sighed in exasperation. "It's an…aphrodisiac," she lied, exhaling noisily to feign resignation.

Myrtle's eyes widened and she clamped one hand to her mouth in shock. "Ooohhh," she cooed several moments later. "Wish I didn't ask. For Mr. Potter, I assume?"

_The older one, actually_. "Yes."

Myrtle giggled as though Hermione had just divulged her dirtiest secret. "Okay, okay. I promise I won't tell anybody. May I watch you while you do it? I wish I knew how to make that when I was in school." She sat on the tiled floor, her expression dreamy.

Hermione shrugged, knowing very well that saying no would spell even more tantrums. "Suit yourself." She continued adding the ingredients of the potion, checking the parchment once in a while to review the directions. Myrtle, meanwhile, had tired of watching her after only a few minutes and had returned to sulk in her cubicle.

Hermione was left to her own thoughts, which wandered aimlessly as she mechanically stirred the potion. Up until that moment, she couldn't believe she had ventured into such a daring task. She had used a Time-Turner in her third year for purely academic purposes, but _that_ had been licensed by the Ministry. She smiled wryly at the thought of having one approved _now_ by the Minister. Hermione shook her head in disbelief at the number of not just school rules, but magical laws, that she was going to break. All for one man.

_Who isn't just any man_, Hermione reminded herself. _A man w__ho's also the Minister of Magic, who's married, the father of your devoted boyfriend…_ She sighed. _Don't go there again, _she told herself._ It is pointless to go over your previous missteps one more time. Besides, it's not as though you have already succeeded._

After one final stir, Hermione had nothing else to do but let the mixture stew for a month. She reached into her bag and took out the hourglass, pleased with its flawless shape and the quality suggested by its lustre of reflected light. She attached it to the gold chain and hung it around her neck. It felt weightless—for the moment.

After a month, the important particles of the sandy mixture would be ready for precipitation. Once she had isolated the solids, all she needed to add were the fine ferromagnetic particles and ensure that they had been evenly dispersed throughout the powdery mixture so she could charm a small volume from it into the hourglass. Hermione had not yet thought about how she was going to deal with the limited range of time the device could turn back, but was confident that the answers lay in her full understanding on the principles involved behind brewing the potion.

Hermione waved her wand around her, and the previous spills and empty plastic packages instantly vanished. She had one month to come up with the correct answer.

* * *

"You look troubled, James," Sirius remarked as he stretched out languidly on a chair in the Minister of Magic's office.

The frown James wore emphasised the lines in his face. "Who wouldn't be? The Dementors have deserted Azkaban and have attacked three villages in one week, and we weren't even able to put up a challenge. I can feel it, Sirius. His supporters feel it too. He _is_ getting stronger."

Sirius truly did not know how his best friend could say such things about Voldemort as though they were of one mind, but he knew better than to ask. He just assumed that James was simply relying on his base instincts. "Not if we can stop it," Sirius said firmly. "This isn't like last time, James. The Order is stronger this time around—in both number and skill. And we finally have a concrete plan to defeat Voldemort once and for all." Dumbledore had recently confided in Sirius the existence of the Horcruxes.

_At what cost?_ James wanted to ask. Instead, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "We should start looking for it, Padfoot," he said, referring to the necklace.

Sirius visibly stiffened at the implication of going back to Grimmauld Place. When his parents and younger brother died, he inherited the house as the eldest among the Black descendants. He had never considered it a home, however, having run away at sixteen and living on his own ever since. He _definitely_ did not want to go back and certainly did not want to ever live there again, hateful of the memories the place awakened.

James looked at him understandingly. "I know it's difficult for you, mate, but you're going to have to face it sooner or later."

"Dumbledore told me he was planning to use it as headquarters for the Order." Sirius grimaced. "He can have it. I really don't care. But it needs a lot of work before we can even consider it suitable for human habitation."

"I had hoped we could do it as soon as possible."

"In that case, it cannot be any later than Christmas," Sirius said thoughtfully. As though inspired by a sudden idea, his face brightened. "Why don't you and your family spend Christmas there with me? I'll ask Remus, too."

James also cheered up at the prospect of a holiday reunion. "That would be excellent. Lily would love that."

"Harry would want the Grangers and the Weasleys to come as well," Sirius added, not noticing his best friend's fleeting change of expression. He clapped his hands. "Now I am indeed looking forward to cleaning it up! Is that old stinking house-elf—Kreacher, yes, that's his name—still alive?" His smile widened. "Oh, what would he say, the remaining Black bringing half-bloods and Muggle-borns into the noble and ancient house of his true masters."

James sniggered, familiar with the bias for blood that the house shared with its previous inhabitants. Of the Marauders, only James had been allowed access by the Blacks. That was just once, when he was thirteen. After hearing his best friend's parents talk about the importance of the purity of blood for two tedious hours, James had sworn that he would never step foot in that house again as long as he—or they—lived.

"The necklace first, Sirius," James reminded gently.

Sirius brandished one hand airily. "Oh, that will be easy, Prongs. With any luck, it'll be hiding behind my mother's screeching portrait. Thank goodness I now have a reason to tear that down."

* * *

December dawned with the pleasant Christmas chill already in the air. Instead of enjoying it outside, Hermione was wrapped in her cloak inside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, getting ready to add the ferromagnetic particles to the Time-Turner solution.

"I'm sure I've done everything correctly," Hermione murmured feverishly as she gazed into the cauldron, the potion still bubbling. "I mean, it does look like it's supposed to." She was about to perform the hour-long precipitation process when she heard shuffling footsteps coming from the end cubicle.

Hermione glanced sharply towards the sound. "Hello? Is anybody there?" she called out, her voice magnified by the tiles. The muffled thudding stopped, and Hermione shivered despite herself. "I thought there was somebody inside," she murmured.

On her knees, she levitated the cauldron with her wand and tilted it so that its contents spilled into another waiting cauldron with a filter atop it. Sieving the viscous liquid of the potion through the small pores for one hour was required for the precipitate to be completely isolated. Hermione, after preparing the setup, moved away and sat on the cold floor, reading and rereading the potion instructions carefully from top to bottom.

When she tired of it, Hermione's thoughts wandered to how she could charm the Time-Turner to go back one year per turn. The earth, she had read, revolved around the sun and rotated on its axis due to the immense gravitational pull of the sun on it. To counter that force, one could not hope to rely simply on the mass of the Earth. What the potion inside the Time-Turner did was concentrate a strong magnetic force inside the hourglass—enough to reverse the Earth's motion to a small extent.

Hermione had considered adding more ferromagnetic particles into the mixture, but she knew that in potion-making the consequences were not additive. The effects of one element in a potion were not always the same as in other potions, or even in other proportions used with the same potion. This was why she had rejected the idea almost immediately after it had occurred to her. Besides, Hermione already had an inkling that the potion, as it was, would weigh heavily on her neck once it was inside the hourglass. What she needed was a way to increase the magnetic force inside the Time-Turner without drastically increasing its weight.

The dying trickle of the solution as its last drops strained through the filter reminded Hermione that she was still in Moaning Myrtle's miserable bathroom and that she had a potion to finish. She carefully removed the net on top of the cauldron and vanished the remaining liquid with a flick of her wand. Hermione then transferred the dried precipitate to a small bowl. She reached inside her bag for the small vial that contained the fine ferromagnetic particles, uncorked it, and emptied it into the bowl. She swirled the mixture of solid particles until the final sandy texture it was supposed to possess was evident.

Hermione also removed the hourglass and the gold chain from her school bag and set them beside the bowl. She took out a specific volume of the mixture and charmed it so that with another wave of her wand, the aliquot filled the hourglass. She attached the hourglass to the chain and surveyed the Time-Turner critically. It appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. Hermione smiled at the sense of satisfaction that filled her each time she accomplished a particularly difficult feat.

_Not so fast, Hermione,_ she cautioned herself. _You still need to verify it does what it's supposed to do._ She fastened the Time-Turner around her neck and gasped at the significant increase in its weight. _Feels heavy, check. Stage one completed,_ Hermione thought wryly.

She stood up and walked towards the stall at the far end of the bathroom, her hands still clutching at the hourglass as she tried to ease its burden, almost in prayer. She was holding what could be her key to be with… him. Hermione sighed. The fact that she was having difficulty saying his name was proof of how uncomfortable she was with the whole thing. Again, the absurdity of the situation struck her. The reservations she had had since the beginning were asserting themselves more strongly as time progressed. What would Harry say if he found out? What would Lily—_no, Mrs. Potter_—say? What would _everybody_ say?

_Well then, they are not going to find out_, Hermione promised herself grimly. She rubbed the hourglass between her thumb and index finger, finding comfort once more in its smoothness. _Besides, what am I being so uptight about? I haven't done anything yet._ That defence was getting easier to say, but was sounding less convincing, each time.

Just in case she had indeed succeeded in creating a Time-Turner—and she was almost certain she had—she needed to keep her time-travelling self from seeing her present self. Hermione entered the end stall and locked it, her hands shaking. Her eyes closed, she turned the hourglass on its chain upside down once, managing to do it using two hands. All of a sudden, she felt like she was being squeezed into a funnel as the world around her whirled in different colours. When the spinning stopped, she was slumped against the wall of the cubicle, dizzy and drained. She shuffled her feet in an effort to stand up and regain her balance.

Hermione stood stock still, all her senses heightened. How on earth was she going to know if she had indeed gone back one hour in time? _Think, Hermione, think._ All was quiet outside. _Wait a minute.__One hour ago, I was already here, getting ready to filter the potion._ Before she could peek through a crack in the door to confirm her suspicions, however, she heard a voice call out.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

Hermione trembled. _That_ voice sounded too much like her own. _In fact, I think it was me, one hour ago._ She peered through the chink in the door and hastily stifled a gasp. It was _her_, indeed, her eyes worriedly drifting towards the end stall, where her time-travelling body was.

"I thought there was somebody inside," Hermione heard herself say.

_This is absolutely freaky,_ Hermione thought, backing away from the door. _Now I understand what the book said about Time-Turners driving people to murder their own selves._ She clutched the hourglass around her neck once more and struggled to reverse its turn so that she could go back to the present. That sensation of being constricted engulfed her again, but before she could throw up, she was already back on her feet. Hermione looked around her cautiously. _Is it over?_ She peered once more through the wood splinter and saw no sign of herself outside. She let out a sigh of relief, unlocked the door and stepped out of the stall.

_I did it_. _I actually did it._ Hermione didn't know if she should be happy—or scared. She had defied not just Ministry laws, but the very law of nature that kept all things in order. She bit her lower lip hard and forced such thoughts out of her head. The hesitations she had disregarded were piling up, and Hermione feared they would one day swallow her up and drown her in a pool of regret.

_There's always time for regrets later._

She fixed her things and cleaned up her mess, storing the sandy mixture in a dark glass vial to minimise its exposure to sunlight. She headed out of the bathroom and made her way to the library. It was time to search for the answer to the last part of the problem.

* * *

"I thought I'd find you here."

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading into Harry's green eyes. She snapped the book closed. "Oh, hi," she said awkwardly. She did not know what else to say.

Harry smiled at her, albeit quite uncertainly. "What were you reading?" he asked as he took a seat beside Hermione. When she did not answer, he read the title off the spine of the book. "_The Book of Almost Obsolete Charms, Volume One_." He looked at her once more, but she refused to meet his eyes. Harry glanced at the other books on the table, taking in their titles. All musty, all with yellowish pages, all on charms.

"What are these for?"

"Light reading," Hermione answered simply, reopening the book and starting to read again. Harry quirked one eyebrow, and she sighed, acquiescent to making an excuse. "Well, okay, not really. I'm looking for a charm to intensify the effects of any curse, charm or potion, but I haven't encountered a suitable one yet."

"What do you intend to use it for?"

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "It was just one of those things I wondered about. You know."

_No, I don't know. Why don't you just tell me?_ Harry thought. But now that he had her talking with him, the last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with her. "I was looking for you. Sirius sent me an owl."

"What?" she blurted out, sitting up straighter. "I mean—what was it about?"

Harry found her outburst strange, but again, refused to comment on it. "He's planning a huge Christmas reunion at his place on Christmas Eve. He wants my family there, of course, as well as your family and the Weasleys. Oh, and Professor Lupin as well."

Hermione relaxed back in her seat. She had been afraid the post carried news of how she had saved the Minister's life in Hogsmeade last month. "I'm going home for the holidays, so I can tell my parents about his invitation. I'm sure they'll be delighted to come, especially with Mr. Weasley entertaining them," she finished with a smile.

Harry leaned in and kissed her, but only on the cheek. "Well, that's all I really came to say," he said. "I've got to go to Quidditch practice. See you later." He stood up and ran his fingers through her hair as she looked up at him, surprised at the mild detachment he displayed.

"Oh, and by the way, Hermione, the charm's _Amplificare_."

Harry was smirking to himself on his way to the Quidditch locker rooms. Ron had been right after all, in suggesting he make his girlfriend miss him a little by not being around her all the time.

_See, mate, Hermione likes to think she's being independent by spending time on her own. But trust me, she wouldn't want to spend all of it alone. Remember how hard she tried to hang out with us in first year?_

Harry smiled as he remembered Ron's words. If Hermione wanted some space and time alone, then she would definitely get what she bargained for. Give her a dose of her own medicine.

He'd have fun watching her in the process.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **The title comes from the song "Journey to the Past" by Lynn Ahrens, used as an opening in the sixth chapter. This chapter used to be entitled "Chasing Rainbows in the Sky", but was revised to contain half of what was previously the seventh chapter, which was edited because it was too long, as advised by my beta, Bobbey. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless:)

**Chapter Summary: **The past takes centre stage as the Marauders recount how Voldemort was defeated the first time around, and Hermione, at long last, solves the Time-Turner riddle.

* * *

**Chapter 8****: Journey to the Past**

_In my time  
I've lived and loved so much  
Through each high and low  
__I let my heart be touched  
In my time  
There isn't much I've missed  
I've seen love come and go  
But heaven knows  
I've never loved like this  
In my time._

_--- Michael Masser and Cynthia Weil (In My Time) ---_

"How are we supposed to get there, Hermione?" Helena Granger asked nervously, smoothing her dress down.

Hermione held out the small urn that contained the Floo powder Harry had sent a few days before Christmas Eve. Along with it had been a note informing her that his father had temporarily connected their Muggle fireplace to the Floo Network.

"Just grab a handful of the powder, Mum, and step inside the fireplace. Drop the powder and shout _Grimmauld Place_!"

"Spell that for me, please."

"G-r-i-m-m-a-u-l-d Place. Grimmauld Place," Hermione pronounced one more time. "Make sure you speak the name of your destination clearly." _Lest you get lost_, she finished inside her head, not wanting to alarm her parents.

"Why don't you do it first, Hermione?" William Granger, her father, requested. "It will be more instructive for us to see how it's done."

"But I wanted to keep watch for you," Hermione protested. Besides, her stomach was still queasy at the thought of seeing James again, of having to act like he was nothing more to her than her boyfriend's father. She remembered that dinner that started everything between them. _Was it really only three months ago?_

William put an arm around Helena and smiled fondly at his daughter. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll be fine."

Hermione sighed and obliged them by taking a handful of the Floo powder. She stepped into the fireplace, sprinkled the powder on the floor and yelled, "Grimmauld Place!"

The elder Grangers blinked in surprise as they beheld their daughter being engulfed by the lively green fire.

"Bloody wizards," William uttered in amazement. "They sure find a use for everything." Beside him, his wife could not help but laugh.

* * *

It was almost dark.

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, quite disoriented with the dim light after leaving her brightly lit living room. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the murkiness as she discerned a room so lavishly and exquisitely decorated that she could not help but wonder if she had arrived at the wrong grate. A large silk banner bearing Slytherin's symbol, frayed at the edges due to age, caught her eye. She walked towards it and gently touched it, comforted by the sight of something familiar. _But wasn't Sirius in Gryffindor?_

"Hermione."

She jumped back from the banner in surprise and looked towards the sound. The sudden hammering of her heart was enough to tell her that it recognised the voice that called her name, for it was the same voice she heard in her dreams, and yet nothing could have prepared her for seeing him again. Hermione felt weak at the knees; James gave off a striking impression, his stance strong and masculine, even when dressed in plain wizard robes. She almost felt ridiculous in her knee-length black skirt and lacy red top.

James, on the other hand, thought she looked adorable, dressed especially for the occasion. Nevertheless, he gave no outward indication of it. "Your parents?" he questioned indifferently.

"They might have been delayed due to some problems with the Floo powder. Muggles are not accustomed to travelling via fireplaces, you know," Hermione answered, her attempt at wit offset by her unnaturally high voice.

James gave a small nod. "We'll just wait for them then." He jammed his hands into his pockets and stared at the fireplace, waiting for it to erupt in flames. Hermione was also quiet beside him. He threw surreptitious looks at her, but she was too busy gazing intently at the fireplace as though it was yet the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

"Did you like the chocolates?" James asked out of the blue, surprising himself.

Hermione tilted her head ever so slightly as she considered him, scrunching her face up seemingly in an attempt to remember. "They were from you?" she asked, trying to act astonished.

James's forehead wrinkled. "Uh, yes," he replied, flustered and feeling stupid now. "Didn't you read the note?"

Hermione shook her head, making considerable effort not to smile. The arrogance of his face dissolved into something more boyish when he was as confused and unsure as he was looking at the moment. "I did not know there was a note. I didn't see it. What did it say?"

"Nothing important." James pushed his glasses up his nose. "I just thanked you again for saving my life. The chocolates were a token of my gratitude."

"Was that all?"

"Yes." James went back to staring at the fireplace, wishing her parents would just step out of the fire right now.

"Are you sure?" Hermione persisted.

"Yes," he answered more firmly, still not looking at her.

_How convenient. He forgot the part where he said he missed me too._ Hermione shrugged. "Well, in that case, you were right. It wasn't so important after all."

James's frown deepened, but before he could say anything, the flames erupted in front of them. They watched as a female figure whirled inside for a few moments and then stepped out.

Helena glanced from her daughter to James, her clothes covered with soot but her face beaming. "I did it! I told your father it really _was_ Grimmauld Place, but he just wouldn't listen to me."

"Did he do it first and get lost?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. After arguing for a few minutes, I told him I really should go first and show him how it's done. You know your father—he always does what I say." Helena glanced down at herself and shuddered. "Fine way to travel, that Floo powder, except for the ash."

"It's okay, Mum. We can fix it," Hermione said, waving her wand and banishing all traces of dirt on her mother's clothes.

Helena thanked her daughter and squinted at the man keeping them company. "Are you—you must be—no." She glanced at Hermione and turned to the man again. "I almost thought you were Harry, but I realised that you looked—well—older, but then you didn't look old enough to be his father in any case—"

James held out one hand, stopping Mrs. Granger in mid-sentence. "I am Harry's father, actually. James Potter, Minister of Magic. We've met before, in Diagon Alley."

Helena's eyes widened, but she covered up her astonishment and embarrassment by shaking his hand firmly. "Oh, of course, I remember. I'm Helena Granger."

"I gathered as much," James said, smiling warmly at her and noting the thick mane of curls that Hermione must have inherited.

Their handshake was broken by another surge of green flames in the fireplace and by the subsequent emergence of a tall man with sandy brown hair. At once, Hermione waved her wand to tidy up her father's garments.

Like his wife, William also looked pleased. "That's what I call a once in a lifetime experience," he said, taking the initiative of extending his own hand to James. "I'm William Granger. Hermione's father."

"James Potter," the Minister replied. "Good to see you again."

William blinked and looked around him. "I thought Sirius Black owned this house?"

"He does," James confirmed. "I'm also one of his guests, but he asked me to wait for your family and escort you into the living room, where the others are waiting. After that, a pleasant dinner expects us. After me, please," he said graciously with one final smile before turning his back on them to lead the way.

An image of a dining room, vague and yet instinctively recognizable, formed in Hermione's mind. "The dining room—it doesn't have a pyramidal chandelier, by any chance?"

James started as he glanced inquisitively at Hermione. "Yes. Why did you ask? You haven't been here, have you?"

Hermione shrugged. "No, I haven't," she said matter-of-factly. "The idea just crossed my mind."

As they neared the living room, shrieks, laughter, and merry voices became more audible.

The room somewhat quieted down as they entered.

"Ah, my most awaited guests!" Sirius exclaimed as he rushed forward to welcome them. "Hello, Hermione. I hope you did not find it difficult to find your way here?" He gave her parents a charming smile. "I'm Sirius Black, of course."

"William and Helena Granger," William said, proffering a hand to the black-haired, grey-eyed man. "Thank you for inviting us to your lovely home."

"My pleasure," Sirius said, returning the favour and shaking Helena's hand as well.

A delightful round of introductions ensued, with Hermione's parents being made familiar with more wizards than they could remember at the moment, and with Fred and George Weasley making themselves known anew through another one of their practical jokes.

"Not again!" Percy Weasley hollered as he felt Fred stick something slimy and smelly into his hand after pompously shaking it. He tried to get it off but couldn't, much to his chagrin.

"Honestly, Percy," George chided his elder brother. "And twelve O.W.L.s at that. When will you ever learn?"

It was quite sometime before everybody had settled down enough for all of them to be herded into the dining room, even with the help of Lily, who charmed the slimy substance off everyone's hands, and Molly Weasley, who made sure the twins behaved for even a few minutes, until at least they entered the dining room. Sirius snapped his fingers as soon as all fifteen seats around the long oval table were taken, and all the food Lily and Molly prepared appeared on the table. Sirius had thought it best not to have Kreacher touch anything they were going to have for dinner, wary of the slouching and grumpy house elf that did not seem to have even a shred of loyalty to him.

Dinner was a wonderful affair, what with the delicious food and the apparently endless servings available for everyone. Small conversations had also broken out around the table, all contributing to a symphony of enjoyable noise. Arthur and Lily were keeping William and Helena entertained with questions about the Muggle world. Sirius and James, on the other hand, were regaling Ron, Harry, and the Weasley twins with stories from their Marauder days. Molly, Remus and Percy were busy discussing the onslaught of books written by a good-looking wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart, while Ginny and Hermione were busy whispering and giggling in one corner. Every once in a while Hermione would look up to see James also glancing her way. Each time he met her eyes, he smiled that small smile of his and held her attention for a few more moments before glancing away. Hermione merely stared at him and did not bother to return those flirtations—but secretly, she was thrilled.

After dinner, Lily and Molly once more engaged the help of their wands to clean up the table and started preparing dessert and drinks while the rest of them, except for Helena who offered help, withdrew to the living room. Hermione noticed for the first time how properly decorated the room was for Christmas. In one corner stood a tall Christmas tree, flecked with fake white snow and ornamented with red balls hanging from its branches. Gold ribbons were tied around the tree along with twinkling lights and a white angel stood proudly atop it. Bunches of holly adorned with poinsettias also outlined the edges of the room.

"Like the Gryffindor colours?" Sirius asked, coming up behind her.

Hermione whirled and smiled. "Definitely. Red and gold go together. But what's a Slytherin banner doing in the other room?"

Sirius raised one amused brow. "Oh, didn't you know? My family has been in Slytherin for generations and generations, along with the other pureblood families. I was considered to be the black sheep of the family for having landed in Gryffindor and for not sharing their pureblood mania." He sat down on one of the couches, and Hermione followed suit, taking her place on a settee opposite him and beside Ginny.

"But the Potters and the Weasleys are also purebloods," Hermione argued. "Yet they are in Gryffindor."

"True. But even among the purebloods there are hierarchies. The Blacks and Malfoys considered themselves part of the highest rung and looked down on the Weasleys and the Potters as blood traitors. You could just imagine the shame my family thought I brought on them by befriending James."

At the sound of his name, James turned to them. He had previously been teaching his son and the Weasley boys new tricks. "Backstabbing me yet, Padfoot?"

"Yes. I was just telling Hermione what a disgrace to Wizard name you are," Sirius joked.

James smirked. "Telling them your family history now? You are growing quite sentimental, Sirius. You must be getting old."

Sirius returned the smirk. "It's better than instructing them how to increase Lupin's headaches in school."

"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed at the reminder of Remus, sitting up straighter in his chair. "I just realised that all three of you are here! The Marauders!"

Remus laughed as he, William, and Arthur, previously engaged in their own conversation, shifted in their seats and joined the larger group's banter. "Actually, I was told that this Christmas reunion was primarily intended for the old Marauders. Sirius, however, realised soon afterwards that we might as well do with some new blood."

"But you're not all here," Fred piped in. Everybody looked at him. "I mean, I remember the Marauder's Map. I've used it. There were four names on it."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," George affirmed. "Which one of you—?"

"Moony is Professor Lupin. Padfoot is Sirius—you've heard my dad call him that—and my dad is Prongs," Harry said.

"Where did you get your names?" Percy asked, looking up from the book he was reading with an expression of mild interest on his face.

"Sorry, Percy, but that's a secret," Remus answered cheerfully.

"That still leaves a fourth Marauder," Fred insisted. "Who is Wormtail?"

The unexpected look of pure venom on Sirius' face was almost bestial. "He was no Marauder," he answered savagely.

Almost everyone's eyebrows shot up, except for James's and Remus'. The former simply had a blank expression on his face while the latter shot Sirius a look of caution.

There was silence for a few moments, which Hermione soon broke. "Why did you say that, Sirius?" she asked timidly.

"A Marauder remains loyal to his brothers even if it leads to his death," Sirius answered, his voice filled with hatred. "Wormtail—his name served him right—was no Marauder. He betrayed James and Lily."

"Maybe we could start somewhere?" Ron asked, hugging his knees to himself in anticipation of a good story.

Hermione frowned at him. "Honestly, Ron. Have you never read a history book?" she asked disparagingly.

"It's okay, Hermione," Sirius said. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You see, Harry, Voldemort wanted to kill your parents long before you were born. In fact, your birth only intensified Voldemort's desire to finish your family off."

"Why?" Harry asked. He had never heard this from his parents, never was told of how his father really defeated Voldemort. But then again, he had never asked.

James met Sirius's grey eyes and shook his head imperceptibly in disagreement. Sirius understood that he was not yet to say anything about the prophecy. "Well, your parents had defied Voldemort three times before you were born. James was the best Auror of our time, and Lily was reputed to be a very talented witch. The Dark Lord also knew that your parents possessed one weapon that was lethal to him."

"Which was?" Harry persisted.

"Right now, it's not important," Sirius answered, ignoring Harry's annoyed glare. "Anyway, with Voldemort pursuing them, Dumbledore advised your parents that their best chance to hide was the Fidelius Charm."

"I've encountered that one," Percy piped in as everybody briefly shifted their attention to him. "It's a complex spell that involves the concealment of a secret inside a soul. Unless this person, called the Secret-Keeper, chooses to divulge the secret, it will remain as such."

"Precisely," Sirius said. "Applied to James and Lily then, it meant that once their hiding place was magically concealed inside a person, Voldemort could be outside the window of their sanctuary and not see them inside."

"So Wormtail was the Secret-Keeper?" Fred asked with bated breath.

"Not at first. I was supposed to be the Secret-Keeper because James asked me to. I was willing to lay my life down for him and his family, of course, but I thought that Voldemort would almost certainly guess that I was the one. He would be correct, and would therefore try to take and break me against my will. I didn't know yet how strong I was; I was afraid to overestimate myself and put James and his family in jeopardy, so I thought we should use a decoy. That was where Peter came in."

"Why not Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, confused.

Remus suddenly had an air of apprehension about him. Sirius and James were looking at him as though the question never occurred to them.

"Why not indeed?" James murmured, straining his mind to remember, waiting for Remus to clarify matters.

"That's also not important as of now," Remus said, encouraging Sirius to continue with his story.

Sirius got the hint and proceeded. "Anyway, James and I decided that Wormtail should be the Secret-Keeper. I thought that was the perfect bluff, for Voldemort would never have imagined we used that weak, talentless, pathetic excuse of a human being for something as important as this. And then, barely a week after the charm had been performed…"

All of the children gasped. "He didn't! He didn't turn them over to Voldemort!" Ginny exclaimed.

Sirius sighed heavily. "He did. After a week, I checked on Wormtail and found him gone from his hideout, but there were no signs of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I alerted Remus and…" Sirius' eyebrows furrowed as though he wasn't quite sure what happened next.

"I immediately went to Godric's Hollow to see if James, Lily, and Harry were safe. I travelled by Floo powder to find Lily and Harry hiding in the bedroom. Lily was telling me hysterically that Voldemort was in the living room, duelling with James." Remus choked on his voice, remembered horror mirrored on his audience's faces.

"I saw Remus and requested him to try to help Lily and Harry escape," James said, finally speaking up, his voice distant. "Remus agreed, and I…" He closed his eyes in an attempt to summon the memories, but they just would not come. _Where are they?_

"James did it. The _Avada Kedavra_," Remus finished for James.

"You didn't!" Ron whispered in disbelief.

Hermione gave James, whose eyes were still closed, a sharp and penetrating look.

"You performed an Unforgivable Curse?" Harry asked, stunned. He was also looking at his father for confirmation, unable to believe that somebody who detested the Dark Arts would utilise them to defeat his own enemy. He remembered Professor Binns's words, unheeded and seemingly insignificant at that time. _Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark magic doesn't mean he can't._

"Yes. Yes, I did," James said, hedging, as though uncertain of himself. His eyes were open, but he was still thinking hard, racking his brain so that he felt the throbbing beginnings of a headache. When did remembering become so difficult? If he did succeed in casting the Killing Curse, then why was that deadly jet of green light streaking towards him?

"And so James defeated Voldemort, the most evil wizard who murdered thousands and evaded capture for years," Sirius finished. "At least temporarily," he amended.

"This Wormtail," Ron said. "You never told us his real name."

"It's Peter Pettigrew. He turned out to be a Death Eater and served Voldemort as a spy." Hermione exhaled. "I've read about this in books, but it sounds so different hearing the story first-hand. It makes it more real."

"Oh, it's real," Sirius assured her. "Very nightmarishly real."

Ron grimaced. "Where is he, then? This Peter, or Wormtail, or whatever his name is?"

"Dead, I sincerely hope," Sirius answered ruthlessly.

"Padfoot, no," James said softly. He was thinking about what drove Peter to deceive them, understood that there had to be some intelligible reason. Was it not the rationale behind any action that determined whether it was good or bad, and not the deed itself?

Sirius turned to Remus once more for help, but his friend simply maintained his silence. Sirius's face contorted once more in fury. "Don't tell me you can still find it in your heart to forgive him, after everything he did to you! Why, I would be glad to kill him myself!"

James shook his head in that pacifying, deliberate way of his, so that Sirius let the issue rest for the moment. What a best friend he had. _Stupid, noble James Potter. Unwaveringly loyal to his friends, no matter what._

There was silence for several moments, allowing the gravity of everything that was said to sink in.

"What do you mean by Voldemort being defeated only temporarily?" George asked.

Sirius looked at James and Remus for help, as though unsure of what to say, but both were too engrossed in their own thoughts to notice. Sirius decided to plunge ahead. "When Voldemort was hit by the Killing Curse, he ought to have been killed. He was not, however, because a bit of his soul was safe somewhere."

"Huh?" the young adults asked, not comprehending Sirius' words.

Sirius sighed and explained, as simply as possible, what Horcruxes were and how they made a man almost immortal, much to the increasing terror of the young Weasleys, Harry and Hermione. When he had finished, they all sat once more in heavy silence, brooding on what it might feel like to have their own souls ripped apart.

Molly and Lily, however, had been standing in the doorway to the living room long enough to hear Sirius telling their children about Horcruxes. Molly was stunned that Sirius would even dare introduce notions of Dark magic. She was already livid when he had finished, and it took her several moments to gather her senses and shout Sirius hoarse.

"What do you think you're doing, telling them about the Horcruxes?" Molly screeched from the doorway. She strode purposefully into the living room, set the tray of brownies on the glass table and stood over Sirius with her hands on her hips. "You should have known better! Now they're going to have nightmares, and it's all your fault!" She transferred her glare to Arthur, who had been listening with rapt attention the whole time, and to James and Remus, who looked equally transfixed as though they had heard the story only for the first time. "And the three of you! Letting him!"

"They were bound to find out later anyway, Molly," James said in a calm voice. "Better for it to have come from us than from other people."

Molly turned to him, prepared to lash out, but instead felt some of her anger seep out. Despite being older than James, she respected him—and not only because he was Minister of Magic. There was something about him that commanded a degree of deference, especially when he used that unruffled voice that indicated, without a doubt, that the discussion was over.

Lily and Helena stepped into the room as well, both of them carrying trays with bottles that they also deposited on the table. Helena sat down beside her husband while Lily straightened up and looked around at everybody with a smile.

"Butterbeer, anyone?" she asked. The faces around her brightened in response as they eagerly reached for the bottles on the table and gulped down the drink as though all that verbal exchange had left them extremely thirsty.

Sirius raised his own bottle after a long swig. "I propose a toast," he declared, motioning for James and Remus to raise their own bottles with him. "To the _real_ Marauders—may nothing ever come between us again." The three clinked their bottles together as the rest also drank to them.

Fred and George lifted their bottles up after for a second toast. "To the new generation of Marauders," they both intoned solemnly, causing laughter to break out in the group. "May they live up to their predecessors' success and never do anything to cause them shame."

The tinkling of glass sealed the pact.

* * *

The train trip back to Hogwarts in January had been most exciting for Harry, Ron, and Ginny as they recounted the events of their Christmas Eve dinner at Grimmauld Place. When midnight struck, everybody started hugging one another, exchanging gifts and wishes for a happy Christmas. After all the presents have been opened and the late hour finally settled in, Sirius decided to accommodate all his guests for the night. The next morning was just as cheery as the night before, as Molly, Lily and Helena prepared different kinds of pasties, served along with coffee and pumpkin juice for breakfast.

"Fred and George won't stop talking about the pranks your dad taught them, Harry," Ron said as he took a bite of the Chocolate Frog he bought from the trolley. "Now they're talking about opening their own joke shop. Bit ambitious, really."

"They certainly have a flair for marketing their products, even way back in Hogwarts," Harry reasoned out. "It might be a wise career choice on their part."

"Sure, sure," Ron said. "But where will they get the start-up money?"

"Get a loan from Sirius," Ginny suggested, giggling, still deciding what to do with the Galleons she had received from him at Christmas. She turned to Hermione, who was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. "What do you think, Hermione?"

Hermione lifted her head, her eyes dazed as though Ginny had just interrupted her from very deep thought. "Uh—well, I'm sure they can do anything if they put their hearts into it," she contributed evasively.

"What are you writing?" Ginny asked curiously, trying to sneak a peek at the parchment.

Hermione hugged it closer to her. "Oh, this? Nothing. I'm just practicing my maths. See?" She held it up for a moment, and true to her words, the page was covered in numbers.

Ron groaned. "Hours after the holidays and you're already working?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Mind your own business and carry on your natter without me. After all, I wouldn't want to dull it." She returned to writing on the parchment, but quickly glanced up again. "Harry, that charm you told me about. _Amplificare_. By how much does it magnify magical power?"

"Exponentially, I think," Harry answered, his eyebrows slightly knitted. "From what I remember, the exponent to which it is raised is equivalent to the number of times with which it was used, plus one. Why?"

"I'm trying to figure out how many times I need to use it."

"For what?" Harry asked, knowing she would not tell him anyway. _Why is it that every time she asks, she gets the answers, while whenever I ask, she doesn't give me any at all?_

Hermione smiled enigmatically at him. "If ever I succeed, I'll let you know."

The male redhead looked at Harry with an expression that said Hermione was indeed impossible. Ginny shushed her brother and opened another topic for discussion.

Hermione's pen flew across her page. Nineteen years—that would be approximately 170,000 hours, with allowance for leap years. If the Amplifying Charm was indeed capable of magnifying the force inside the Time-Turner just the way Harry described, one application of the charm would result in the squaring of the strength of the sandy mixture. One _Amplificare_ would allow the Time-Turner to go back a maximum of 576 hours. To enable the Time-Turner to return at least nineteen years, three castings of the charm were required. This, however, would result in the inclusion of an extra force with unnecessarily high magnitude so that it would be impractical to use the same volume of potion. Hermione did one last multiplication and realised that she only needed half of the normal volume once its power had been magnified three times.

When they had reached Hogwarts, Hermione hurriedly stepped out of the train, dragging her trunk with her. She deposited it where she was supposed to, not bothering to wait for the house-elves to finish lugging it up to her dormitory.

"Hermione, where are you going? Hey, your trunk!" Ginny called as Hermione sped past her in the hallway.

Hermione stopped only long enough to wheeze, "I'll sort my things out later, Ginny. Thanks." She dimly heard Ron and Harry call her name in exasperation, but she didn't heed them. She leapt up the stairs two at a time, one hand clutching her robe pocket, and sprinted to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

The tiled surroundings calmed her somewhat, so that she paused for a moment to catch up with her breathing. _This is it, the last gap,_ she thought, still trying to take in as much air as she could. She pulled her wand from her pocket and fished the hourglass from the inside of her shirt. She unhooked the Time-Turner from her neck, held it up to the light by its chain, and pointed her vine wood wand at the hourglass. Her hands were shaking. She took another deep breath to calm her nerves.

_What am I so worried about? This charm is so easy to do_, Hermione thought, unsettled by her suddenly clammy hands. Out of the blue, she remembered Harry kissing her lovingly on the lips just last Christmas, whispering in her ear how lucky he was to spend another holiday with her. Afterwards, Harry had presented her with an oval-shaped, gold locket with their pictures inside and, after securing it around her neck, kissed her once more.

Shame and guilt were now burning at the pit of her stomach, threatening to overwhelm her. _No! I didn't go this far just to be dissuaded at the last moment!_ She tightened her grip on both the wand and the chain and declared, "_Amplificare!_" The hourglass glowed brightly for a moment. Hermione looked more closely at the mixture inside but did not detect any significant difference in its appearance, or even in its weight.

She repositioned her wand once more, but fumbled with it as another apprehension struck her. _If I do manage to return to the past, what can change? Will anything change?_ She gritted her teeth. This was absolutely not the right time for her qualms to take root. Even so, Lily's face replaced Harry's in her mind as she unintentionally recalled how Lily treated her when they encountered each other properly for the first time that Christmas Eve. Although Lily had smiled at her, Hermione had discerned the lack of warmth and amiability in her eyes that definitely used to exist.

"Merry Christmas." Lily had held out a small, nicely-wrapped package to her. "This is for you, Hermione. I hope it suits you."

Hermione had returned Lily's gesture with a weak smile. "I'm sure it will, Mrs. Potter. You have impeccable judgment," she remembered saying, wincing silently afterwards at the hidden meaning her words implied. Lily had simply thanked her politely with the same distant chill.

_Shut it, Hermione Granger! Worry about it when it happens. Not now, not yet!_ screamed another voice—a more selfish one—inside her head.

Hermione flicked her wand a second time. "_Amplificare!_" she repeated, more forcefully this time. Once more the hourglass emitted a silvery glow.

_Just one more time, please. Just one more time._ Hermione was feeling weaker by the second, and she wasn't sure if using the charm naturally drained energy from its caster, or whether it was just her own guilty conscience. For a moment, practicality—the devil's advocate—asserted itself one last time. _Why are you doing this anyway? What is it for? Who is it for? _the voice asked evenly, the way it would with an unreasonable child.

_I'm doing this for James, for the two of us,_ Hermione answered stubbornly, squeezing her eyes shut. _Really, I wouldn't bother fighting so hard if I didn't really believe he cared for me too._ Hermione bit her lip so hard that she almost tasted blood. That Christmas morning, Hermione, while on her way downstairs to the dining room for breakfast, had run into James. He had flashed her a quick but awfully handsome smile, greeted her good morning, and was about to step past her when Sirius, from the breakfast table, had shouted a word of warning.

"You cannot pass that easily, James," Sirius had called out next.

"Why not?" James had asked, bemused. He had followed Sirius' line of sight and inhaled sharply at the sight of mistletoe, garnished with flowers, hanging above. "So?"

Sirius grimaced. "Well, mate, when a man and a young woman find themselves under the mistletoe, the man has to kiss the woman—or else it will bring very bad luck in love to both of them."

Hermione reddened. _Thank Merlin Harry's still in bed and Lily's in the kitchen._ The mortified look on her parents' faces, who were the only people aside seated at the table aside from Sirius, was enough to make her die of embarrassment.

James had let out a strained laugh. "Come on, Padfoot. That's just an old wives' tale. Surely you don't believe that."

"Better to be safe than sorry, James. Besides, it's not such a big deal."

_Not a big deal?_ James clenched his jaw and focused his gaze on Hermione. "We'll risk all that misfortune then," he had said impatiently.

Hermione had expected his eyes to mirror intense disdain. The look of desperate longing in James's eyes took her breath away more effectively than his kiss could have, and that was when she became conscious of just how much effort staying in control was costing him. He refused to touch her not because he did not want her, but because he was fighting what he was not supposed to feel. It made her want him all the more.

"We've talked about this," James had muttered in her ear just as he passed her.

Hermione opened her eyes, freeing herself from her reverie. Without another thought, she cast the charm for the third time. "_Amplificare!_" she asserted. As soon as its resultant glow faded, she waved her wand and vanished half of the sandy mixture away. She held the Time-Turner up and fastened it around her neck once more, then walked slowly to the end cubicle. She stepped inside and locked it, her actions as fastidious as though she had all the time in the world.

_From this point onward, there is no turning back._ Hermione stepped back from the door, extracted her wand yet again, and turned the hourglass upside down nineteen times over so fast that it was almost a blur. Without warning, she felt her body being compressed once again, the pressure so severe that she could hardly keep her eyes open and absorb the rapid swirling of rainbow colours around her. The immense pain robbed her of all her senses—and just when she thought she could not take anymore, everything stopped.

Hermione sagged against the wall of the cubicle, nauseous and exhausted. She scuffled her feet to regain some balance. Even with her numb body and muddled mind, she could not help but wonder. _Did I do it?_

Muffled voices, too low to be discernible, cleared her head a bit. _It's time. _Still swaying slightly, she slid the latch to the right and pulled the door open.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** The story on Voldemort's downfall was important because… see if you can spot why! Haha. By the way, I checked the HP Lexicon and found out that the Time-Turner was actually made of silver. However, I took the liberty of making it glass because I think it would look better that way. As a future warning, this story will also deviate from the accepted timeline also posted in the Lexicon. I will explain more later on. Oh, and _amplificare_ is the Latin word for _amplify_. Lack of creativity. :)

I also wanted to clear up some issues regarding this story, the most sensational of which is the so-called paedophilia said to be glorified here. This condition is defined by the Encarta dictionary as the sexual desire felt by an adult for children. I just wanted to say that I hardly consider Hermione a child in this story, and that James doesn't look at her and sees her as one either, so the attraction he feels for Hermione doesn't fall under paedophilia.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **The first eight chapters you've seen were confusing—I have to admit that. However, that was precisely the effect I wanted to affect. Some people have asked if James did love Hermione. I did not want to let any of them use the word 'love' because I believe it was too strong a word for them to say, considering that they've started feeling that _something_ only for a few months. It was why I labelled that emotion simply as a strong attraction, knowing both of them would do so, because they are essentially upstanding people. I wanted James and Hermione to be in a state of moral quandary so that sometimes they succumb to their desires, while at other times they strive to maintain their self-control. ;) Enough about that. Anyway, I hope that from this chapter onward, things yet unexplained will become clearer. Enjoy:)

You might be surprised to see "Chasing Rainbows in the Sky" under Chapter 9. I'm sorry. This happened because Chapter 7 was cut in half and revised, as suggested by my beta, Bobbey, because it was too long. Thus, Chapter 8 was moved to Chapter 9. The new chapter is actually under Chapter 10. I apologise for the confusion and inconvenience it might've caused you.

**Chapter Summary: **Hermione thought the key to being with James lay in the past. Nineteen years back, however, she not only finds James hopelessly in love with Lily, but that even she could not stand him. Armed with nothing but a wand and her own cunning, Hermione finds herself alone in a time and place she does not belong to.

* * *

**Ch****apter 9: Chasing Rainbows in the Sky**

_Can it be true?  
Could I be wrong?  
__That somewhere in my past  
I fell in love with you.  
Can it be true?  
Could I be wrong?  
That somewhere in my past  
There was also me and you._

_--- Mon del Rosario (Somewhere in the Past) ---_

"Sirius, have you seen that bag of lacewing flies?" James asked, rummaging in his rucksack. "Didn't I give it to you last month? I can't find it anywhere."

Sirius stretched his legs out on the cold floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "Of course you can't," he answered in a bored voice. "I gave it to Peter and asked him to add the flies to the potion a month ago."

James looked expectantly at Peter, whose normally smallish eyes were wide with worry.

"I—uh—put it all in the potion."

James's hazel eyes widened. "You wh—what?" he sputtered, aghast. "But Peter, that was too large a quantity to use! Now the potion's ruined!"

"I'm—I'm sorry," Peter said, remorseful. "I didn't know how much to put in, and I thought a little extra wouldn't hurt."

"Why didn't you check the book?" Sirius asked, snorting. "Well, in any case, it isn't the first time."

"What isn't?" Remus asked curiously from a few feet away, coming up for air from the thick book he was reading.

"Peter messing up a potion after letting it stew for a month and spoiling another one of our plans."

Peter was looking at James with an expression of pitiful apology on his face. The bespectacled, black-haired youth narrowed his eyes warningly at Sirius, as if to remind him that he had entrusted the potion to him in the first place and not to Peter. "Never mind, Wormtail. We'll find a way to fix it." He sighed and stared morosely into the cauldron, trying to think.

Sounds of shuffling from the far end of the bathroom, eerily augmented by the tiled walls, reached Sirius' dog-sharp ears. He narrowed his eyes. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" James and Remus asked distractedly.

"I thought I heard somebody," Sirius said, his eyes straying to the end stall.

Peter started. "Wh—what? There's a girl in there?"

"You're extremely jumpy today, aren't you?" Sirius commented snidely, receiving another cautioning look, this time from Remus.

"Well, this is a girls' bathroom, Wormtail," Remus said patiently, although he himself was biting back his own tongue that wanted to add, _Just in case you didn't notice._

James was looking at them as though they were all daft. "Nobody uses this bathroom anymore, except for Moaning Myrtle," he said, stirring the potion and peering hopefully at it. "Maybe it was Myrtle you heard."

"I doubt it," Sirius insisted. "If she was here, she wouldn't be hiding in one of the cubicles. Myrtle would be sitting beside you, running her ghostly hands through your messy black hair…"

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate," James muttered.

Remus sniggered. "Oh, so now she's a distraction? Lily would be relieved to hear you've finally given up chasing after her."

"Or insulted, maybe," Sirius said. "Imagine having been substituted for by a colourless spectre living in a bathroom!"

Remus and Sirius laughed, and after a quick glance at James to check if it was okay, Peter joined in. James simply smiled arrogantly at them. "Just wait and see," he said with confidence. "Once this potion's done and we put the plan in action, Lily will be head over heels in love with me faster than any of you can flick your wands."

"Really?" Sirius asked, smirking. "Remind me again, Remus, what Operation Number are we on now?"

"Three hundred and seventy-eight, if I'm not mistaken," Remus answered light-heartedly. "I've been counting since we were in third year. That means he has said the same thing about Lily falling in love with him for the same number of times." The three other Marauders roared with laughter once more.

With the same smile on his face, James countered, "You've forgotten that bit about Lily and I getting married after we graduate." His three friends shook their heads in amusement.

"Well, mate, just in case Lily does not want to be your bride, at least you already have me, your best man," Sirius told his best friend good-naturedly, clapping James on the shoulder.

"Oh, but she will," James said, his hazel eyes gleaming. "At least after I set this potion right anyway."

The clicking metal noise of a door latch trying to be pulled open caught everybody's attention except James's, who was still looking into the cauldron. They turned their puzzled faces towards the cubicles.

"I told you there was somebody in there," Sirius said, his head jerking towards the end stall.

The three boys stared hard at the door of the end stall, breath held in suspension, waiting for somebody—anybody—to emerge.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the cubicle, shielding her dazed eyes from the light. Still trying to refocus her sight, she looked around her. She immediately recognised the rather shabby surroundings. _I'm still in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom._ Despair weighed her heart down—_I failed_—until she glanced around and looked straight into Remus' warm blue eyes. Her own roved his face, marking the absence of lines that she knew were there. She blinked. _That's not quite right._ She looked at his two companions for confirmation. _Sirius_, she realised with a jolt, taking in the handsome young man with longish black hair and twinkling grey eyes. _And this must be Peter_, she thought, knowing the slightly pudgy, blond-haired boy with them could not be anybody else. _I'm here?_ She let out an inaudible sigh of relief. _I'm here!_ She had dared, and she had won. She was almost afraid she hadn't. _Wait.__Where's James?_

"We—we didn't see anything!" Peter exclaimed nervously, clamping one hand over his eyes.

"Pity we didn't," Sirius said, eyeing Hermione with interest. His expression of curiosity, however, rapidly changed into one of suspicion as he recognised the Hogwarts robes she wore. "I haven't seen you before."

_I travelled nineteen years back in time for this kind of hospitality?_ Hermione's mind was still reeling from all the ideas she was trying to process, and she definitely wasn't in the mood to be polite. She scowled and raised one eyebrow. "Well, neither have I," she responded haughtily.

"But you're in Gryffindor," Remus observed mildly, having noted the red-and-gold lion House emblem on her robes.

_Thank Merlin I __had not pinned my Head Girl badge on_. "Yes. I… transferred."

Sirius looked at her sceptically. "So late in the year? I didn't know that was allowed."

"So that was why you didn't know the bathroom was out of order? Because you're new?" Remus inquired.

"No, wait, Moony," Sirius interjected before Hermione could answer. "We've been here _for hours_, and we only heard her _now_. She can't have been that long in the loo."

Remus paused. Sirius had a point. "What year are you in?" he asked instead.

"Seventh," Hermione answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You?"

"The same," Peter said. A gold chain with an hourglass for a pendant glinted in the light and caught his attention. "What's that around your neck?"

Hermione hastily covered the hourglass with her hand and tucked it back inside her robes. "Just a necklace my mother gave me. So… What year is it?"

Sirius frowned. _This girl is crazy._ "1979. January, in case you didn't know. Are you in a time warp or what?"

"Happy new year to you too," Hermione shot back, annoyed. "I was just asking."

"What's your name?" Remus asked, gently intervening before Sirius could think up a snide reply.

Hermione's expression softened somewhat. "Hermi—" A closed look tightened her face as she quickly came to a decision. "Regina. Regina Weisz." _Now where did that name come from?_

Remus' face broken into a warm, genuine smile that coaxed one out of her. "Pleased to meet you. My name's Remus."

_I know_, Hermione almost said out loud. She caught herself in time and replied instead, still smiling, "Odd place to make acquaintances with boys, in a girls' bathroom. The three of you are not supposed to be here."

Peter gave a nervous laugh. "Well, it's nice to meet you too. I'm Peter, and this is—"

Hermione wasn't listening; her nostrils just picked up the distinct smell of a potion she was very familiar with. "What's that you're brewing?" she asked, trying to walk past the three of them.

Sirius stretched his arms out and blocked her way, looking at her as though she was a nuisance. "It's none of your business."

Hermione simply grinned at him and smartly sidestepped him to see another young man, previously hidden from sight by the other three, mindlessly mixing a cauldron with his back to her. Her heart jumped. She would know him anywhere.

He turned, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. He was just as handsome as she had imagined him to be: chiselled facial features and a strong jaw that was made arrogant by youth. His messy black hair was rugged on him, and yet his glasses offset it, imparting the aura of an intellectual. Hermione was swept away.

"Harry," she found herself saying.

The beautiful hazel eyes that stared at her, however, did not show any hint of emotion—not even surprise. After one disinterested glance at her, seventeen-year-old James Potter returned his attention to the cauldron.

"Harry? What kind of sissy would want to be called that?" Sirius crowed in the most insulting voice he could muster. He, Remus and Peter had also turned and followed Hermione to where she was standing.

Hermione bit her lip hard, wondering why she had to remember Harry _just__now_. Unruffled but refusing to show it, Hermione gingerly stepped closer to James, enough to peer down into the cauldron and see its contents. "That's Polyjuice Potion," she remarked with mild suspicion.

"Yes, we know," Sirius said.

"What is it for?"

Sirius exhaled noisily. "To transform into somebody else, obviously."

_Was Sirius really such a jerk?_ Hermione thought irritably. "I know that, but under what circumstances are you going to use it for? If this is another prank—"

"James, why don't you just give this girl five points for Gryffindor so she could shut up?"

James sighed. "Stop talking to the girl, Sirius, and help me with this. The potion's far too runny."

"The girl has a name, James," Remus said, looking apologetically at Hermione as if to say that his friends weren't always as rude as they were right now. "It's Regina."

_Wait a minute._Was that the Head Boy badge on his cloak? "You're Head Boy," Hermione told James with astonishment.

James looked at her pointedly. _Very astute, isn't she?_ "What's it to you?"

"That means you're not supposed to be brewing Polyjuice Potion illegally."

"Yeah?" James smirked. "Why would they teach us then, if we weren't allowed to concoct it anyway? Besides, I'm of age, I didn't steal any of these ingredients from Old Sluggy's cupboard and—" His lips curved in another challenging smile. "You just said it. I'm Head Boy."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, all thoughts of her attraction to him vanishing. "All those excuses, and yet you couldn't even brew the potion correctly?"

James looked only a bit flustered. "It's just a tiny mistake I'm sure I can fix, if you would just keep quiet so I can concentrate. Somebody just added—" He fell silent, not wanting to blame Peter or Sirius.

"Too much of the lacewing flies," Hermione finished for him. His hazel eyes widened slightly and she stifled a smile. "And you still don't know how to fix it, do you?"

"I'll figure it out," James insisted stubbornly. He shifted his attention back to the cauldron.

"Maybe she can help," Remus suggested. All the other four glanced at him in surprise. "I mean, she was able to pinpoint the source of the problem. Maybe she also knows the solution."

Even Sirius was contemplating the same idea. "She does sound like she knows what she's talking about, mate."

"All girls sound like that," James mumbled. _One Lily Evans was enough for him._

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you're so certain you can handle it all by yourself, I guess I should leave." Concerns of how she would live without having brought anything from the present had already occurred to her, and she needed time alone to sort everything out. She shrugged one last time and turned her back to them.

She had advanced just a couple of steps when she heard James's voice call out, "No, wait!" Hermione continued walking towards the door, ignoring the thudding footsteps closing in on her.

"Wait," James repeated firmly, placing one large hand on her shoulder.

Hermione stilled, not daring to breathe. She slowly turned around. _So close._

"Regina." _Thank Merlin I remember her name._ "I really need your help with the potion," he said seriously, his eyes drawing her in.

Hermione tilted her head to one side. "Just like that, no apologies whatsoever?"

James thought for a moment and smiled that small smile of his. "Just like that, yes."

Hermione did not really trust herself to look straight into his eyes, so she kept her head lowered as she shrugged his grip from her shoulder. She slowly walked back to where the cauldron, around which the three other Marauders were still standing, before turning to face James once more. From this distance, she felt more in control.

"Not until you tell me what it's for," Hermione said, her lips slightly curved upwards and her hands on her hips.

James groaned, running his hand through his hair as he joined them. "Aww, Regina. Do I have to beg?"

"No," Hermione replied amusedly. "Just tell me what it's for, and the potion's yours."

"Man, she's persistent," Sirius remarked, watching the scene unfold with a growing smile on his face.

"I don't see what's so funny," Hermione told him.

"Oh, you will," Sirius assured her, laughing. "Let me help you here, Prongs. You see, James has been asking this girl in school to go out with him for ages, but she has refused him each time."

_Oh._ Hermione's face fell. She should have known that everything James did had something to do with _her_. "What's her name?"

Sirius raised one brow in mockery. "Is that important?"

"Lily Evans," Hermione said softly, answering her own question.

Four faces of identical shock and renewed suspicion turned to her.

Hermione's own eyebrows jumped. "What?" she said defensively.

"Are you a Legilimens?" Peter asked almost respectfully.

Hermione held back a laugh. "No. I just—I've heard the name before. She's, uh—" Hermione whispered a little prayer in her head. "She's Head Girl, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," Remus confirmed, somewhat relieved that was all there was to it.

"So what if she is?" Sirius asked.

"Well, Head Boys and Head Girls go together," Hermione answered with an odd, twisted smile. "It's a match made in heaven."

James smiled approvingly at her words. "See? That's what I said," he told his friends. "Lily and I are simply meant to be. It's just that sometimes, the circumstances have to be tweaked."

"So where does this potion come in?" Hermione asked, wanting to end all talk about Lily.

Sirius gave another laugh, and this time, embarrassment became apparent on James's face. "James was going to use it to change places with Remus. You see, Lily actually likes Remus—"

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," Remus interrupted, sounding slightly hurt.

"As a friend, I mean. Of the four of us, Remus is the only one Lily talks to. So James thought that maybe if Remus talked to her about him, maybe she would see him in a different light."

"Correction," James said. "What Sirius means is that maybe she'll finally acknowledge that she really has feelings for me."

"Which at the moment aren't really pleasant," Sirius reminded him, leaving James to scowl in return. "With this plan, at least, James is finally going to get to spend some moments alone with Lily. Even that has always been impossible since Evans seems to dislike the mere presence of James's shadow."

Hermione frowned. "So basically, James-as-Remus will try to convince Lily that James really is a sensitive, caring guy?" It was the craziest matchmaking scheme she had ever heard.

"Despite hexing Snape every hour, yes," Sirius said. "Of course, since Remus is going to be James, no one will really be pranking anybody."

Now that the plan had been spoken out loud, Remus realised how stupid the whole setup sounded. "I honestly don't think Lily will fall for it—she's not thick—but at least there won't be too much work on my part."

"Thank you so much for your vote of confidence, Moony," James said. "I'm sure if you do what you're an expert at—being sweet and warm and compassionate—I'll have her as my date on the next Hogsmeade weekend. Just leave a little arrogance intact, though." He winked. "James Potter should not be without it."

_How cavalier_, Hermione thought, wrinkling her nose in distaste. _No wonder Lily won't go out with him. I myself wouldn't want to. _

James was still in full flow about his instructions to Remus. "Walk with your back straight and with a confident stride. Don't forget to mess up your hair, play with this Snitch—" He reached into his pockets, fished it out and stuck it in Remus' hand. "Oh, and I hope you do know how to catch it in time before it slips beyond your reach—"

"Look, if you really want her to go out with you, why don't you—" _Act a little more mature, maybe?_ She could not believe she was looking at the future Minister of Magic. Hermione sighed. "Why not Amortentia?"

James frowned, annoyed at being cut off in mid-speech. "That would be like forcing her to go out with me against her will. It's not any better than using the Imperius Curse. Besides, I don't really need that strong a potion." Again, there was that note of superciliousness.

"Felix Felicis?"

"It takes six months to brew," James countered.

"Why not nick some from the cauldrons in the dungeon?" Hermione persisted.

His frown deepened. "That's stealing."

_Righteous, aren't you?_ Hermione thought, somewhat convinced that he really was good inside, despite his obnoxiousness. Glimpses of the man she knew he would become shone through. She shook her head to dispel thoughts of the future, sat down on the cold floor and after inspecting the cauldron once more, looked up at James. "Have you got any boomslang skin left?"

James sifted through the contents of his bag and handed her a package containing scaly, greenish layers shed from the poisonous tree snake.

"Thanks," Hermione said, pulling the flap open at once and carefully extracting one sheet.

"What do you need it for?"

Hermione looked pityingly at James. "It counteracts the effects of excess lacewing flies. You'll see," she said.

The Marauders watched her measure out an area of the reptile skin with her index finger, wave her wand over it so it was minced to pieces, scoop it all up and drop it into the cauldron. A blue steam issued momentarily from the potion, which vanished as soon as Hermione had stirred it several times, first with only one hand then with two.

When the potion thickened to its expected consistency, Hermione put the ladle down and looked expectantly at the Marauders. Sirius and James both wore dubious expressions on their faces, but Remus and Peter seemed fascinated with what she had just done. It was enough to make Hermione feel gratified.

"There," she said, standing up and brushing dirt off her robes. "Just add bits of the person you're changing into, and you're all set."

"Are you sure? Just like that?" James asked, misgivings still evident on his face and his tone edging on derision.

That was the last straw. Hermione tossed her chin up at him and fixed him with her most piercing glare. "You know, you should never have asked me to help you if you didn't trust me completely," she said in a low, steely voice.

James blinked and instinctively stepped back as though she had just slapped him. "No, I—uh—"

"I have to go see Dumbledore," Hermione interrupted in a bitter voice, swivelling around so suddenly that her robes swished behind her. She marched to the door, both angry and disappointed. _One hour into the past and everything's already screwed up_.

"Thank you," James said weakly.

She slammed the door behind her.

* * *

Hermione walked aimlessly along the corridors, wondering what to do next. _Maybe I should just attend class_. The question was what class she should go to. She pulled at her hair in frustration. _On the other hand, maybe I should just go home._ That thought had been hovering inside her mind since that incident in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and she had to admit that she had not yet found any good reason to remain in the past. _James is very much in love with Lily, and Sirius seems to dislike me so much._ Besides, she didn't really want to shake hands with Peter, someone she knew would betray James later on. As for Remus—well, that was just him being him. He was always warm and welcoming, but she didn't think he would want to be in her company anyway. Not with his fellow Marauders around.

Hermione looked down the hallway and saw a girl with short blond hair walking several steps ahead of her.

"Excuse me," she called out.

The girl turned to her with a questioning smile on her round, pleasant face. "Yes?"

Hermione walked more quickly towards her, and as she moved closer, she recognised the Gryffindor lion stitched on her school robes. "May I know which class the Gryffindors have next?"

"You don't have a schedule?" the girl asked in surprise. "Everything depends on the O.W.L. results given almost two years back."

"Is that so?" Hermione asked. _Of course._ She had forgotten. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. _I got all twelve O.W.L.s, eleven 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations', and yet here I am, officially unenrolled in any class._ "Where's your next class then?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," she answered, gesturing vaguely towards a classroom several doors down. "Do you want to go with me?"

Hermione smiled, but she shook her head. "Thank you, but I have some matters to sort out first."

The girl looked at her as though she wanted to ask her something else, but changed her mind at the last moment. She shrugged. "Okay," she said, smiling one last time before turning around to go to her class.

Hermione watched her walk away, realising that she also looked familiar to her and regretting not having asked her name. She sighed and started making her way to Dumbledore's office. It now seemed like the logical thing to do, but how was she supposed to explain her situation to him? _See, Professor, I made a Time-Turner to go back in time and be with somebody I could not be with in the present._ She snorted. _Fat chance that will happen anyway,_ she thought sadly, _if my first hour back is any indication of things to come._ She was lost in unpleasant thoughts of what awaited her when she finally became conscious of the stone gargoyle in front of her.

"Cockroach Cluster?" she told the gargoyle hopefully. "Sugar quills? Sherbet lemon? Bertie Botts' Every-Flavour Beans?" The statue still refused to move.

Hermione stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. It figured. She was having the worst time of her life. _Maybe I should just wait until Dumbledore or one of the professors find out that they suddenly have a new student in class._ She let out another sigh and retraced her steps to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. She entered through the back door with her eyes on the floor, and yet felt the questioning glances being thrown at her as she stood somewhere in the back, dimly seeking out an empty seat. She finally chose one in the last row near the windows, slipped into it and cupped her face in her hands as she stared outside. She had never felt so alone.

"Hey, I saved you a seat."

She looked up, startled. James was smiling gently down at her, his hand extended as though to help her up. She took it without second thoughts, blushing as she did so, stood up and followed him to a pair of empty desks in the middle of the third row.

Once they were seated, Hermione looked around and saw Sirius and Peter occupying another two escritoires in front of theirs.

"Where are your things?" James asked.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I—uh—don't have any."

"Not even books? Quills? Parchment?"

Hermione shook her head and, in answer to his questioning look, said, "I was such in a hurry to pack I didn't even bring clothes. All I brought with me was my wand. Besides, the books I was using in my old school were not the same as those used here." _Not to mention the fact that I've already read them, of course._ In a weird sense, she was telling the truth about the books, as she was almost sure her own books were already several editions ahead of what they had way back.

James's forehead wrinkled. "There's another Wizard school in Britain?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Yes. But it's much older." Another truth with a crooked connotation, as technically, Hogwarts was older in her day. "But I cannot speak its name. You know, secrecy and all that."

"How are you going to get by without anything?"

"Oh, I'll manage," Hermione replied breezily. Why was he suddenly so concerned about her?

James pushed his glasses up his nose. "Maybe I can ask Sirius to lend you some money."

"Thanks for the offer, but really, it's not a problem," she said, thinking of the many things she could do with her wand. Hermione smiled at him. "What's gotten into you? You weren't so nice a while ago."

He looked taken aback. "I wasn't?"

"Well—no," Hermione responded hesitantly. "To tell you the truth, James, you were such an insufferable git, I could not even stand you."

James's hazel eyes gleamed with mischief as he placed a warm hand over hers. He bent his head to her ear and whispered, "It's Remus."

Hermione's lips parted in surprise, and she twisted around in her seat to get a better look at him. _I was so stupid!_ "Oh."

"You look disappointed," Remus told her teasingly.

"No. No," Hermione stammered. _Just disillusioned._ To think she had believed that James was finally showing her some attention by some stroke of divine luck! She cast her mind around for something else to say. "So… the potion worked?"

Remus nodded. "James was very thankful for your help, you know." He smiled at the look of disbelief on Hermione's face. "Admittedly, he went overboard with it, but that was just because he was worried about the potion. He really is a good guy deep inside."

Hermione smiled wryly. "I'm not Lily Evans, Remus. I don't need to hear you extol James's characteristics." She patted his hand. "Besides, I'm glad that it's you who's with me now. You were really the only one who made me feel welcome since I came here."

Remus flushed with pleasure, and Hermione could not help but appreciate how good-looking James really was. _If only he were as easy to get along with_, Hermione lamented.

Both Remus and Hermione were taken aback when Sirius turned to look towards the back door and let out a sharp whistle. They followed his eyes and saw beautiful, red-haired Lily Evans enter the room. James—disguised as Remus—trailed behind her, carrying her books. He glanced at Sirius and, as soon as their eyes met, gave him a conceited wink that matched the smug expression on his face, both of which did not quite fit in with Remus' gentle features.

Lily chose the pair of seats to Remus' right. James slid into the seat between Lily and Remus, caught the latter's eye, and discreetly gave him the thumbs-up sign.

"James really is a nutter," Remus muttered in a low voice. "He'd do anything to win Lily over."

"I can see that," Hermione said, trying to smile but failing dismally. _Is this what I came back for? To see Lily and James get together?_

The first door of the room opened, and a short, wiry man with stringy grey-blond hair entered, limping slightly with one leg.

"That's Alastor Moody," Remus whispered to her. "One of the best Aurors today."

"I notice he still has two eyes intact," Hermione mused.

Remus considered her for a moment, speculating on her strange words. He could not help but remember how Sirius commented on her peculiarity. "Yes, he does," he said instead, quite nonchalantly.

"Silence!" Moody thundered. The class fell quiet, attention now on him. His blue eyes warily surveyed the room and locked in on Hermione almost immediately.

"New student?" Moody growled.

Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. "Yes, sir."

Moody glowered down at her. "Dumbledore didn't tell me anything about a new student. Name?"

"Regina Weisz," she answered smartly.

Moody stared hard at her, and Hermione almost cried out loud from the excruciating pain caused by imaginary knives jabbing into her mind. She focused all her strength and will on countering it, her fists tightly clenched.

The pain stopped as suddenly as it hit her. Moody grimaced—but then it also might have been a smile. "Very good defence, Miss Weisz." _But don't you know, it actually makes you more suspicious._

Everybody turned to Hermione, whose face was glowing red both with exhaustion and with delight at his compliment. "Thank you, sir."

Most of the class wore bemused expressions on their faces, not recognising what had just transpired. Remus, however, realised that Moody had just tried to break into her mind through Legilimency, probably to see if she was lying, and that she had effectively stopped him. _Regina is no ordinary girl,_ Remus thought, smiling with admiration. He found himself more fascinated the more time he spent with her.

Four consecutive knocks on the front door startled them anew. Professor McGonagall's stern, but less-lined face, peered into the room, her eyes silently asking permission from Moody to enter. Once Moody acknowledged her presence, she stepped inside, and her eyes swept through the room as though in search of somebody. She blinked her large eyes when she saw Hermione. "You are the new student?" she asked.

Hermione looked up in surprise, wondering how the news had spread so quickly. She nodded and stood up.

"Miss Alice Clarke told me about you," Professor McGonagall said, her eyes flickering towards the blond, round-faced girl Hermione had encountered earlier. "Follow me, please."

"Don't worry, I'll take down notes for you," Remus told her.

_There's no need, actually._ Nevertheless, Hermione smiled at him gratefully and sailed out of the room after Professor McGonagall.

"Where are we going, Professor?" Hermione asked as she tried to keep in pace.

"To the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. It seems that he has also been informed of your unexpected arrival."

Hermione fell silent, her heart pounding in fear. She had expected this, had even thought of approaching Dumbledore herself, but not now. Not when she was unprepared. What was she going to tell him? It wasn't advisable for her to tell the truth, but it didn't seem wise to lie either.

Professor McGonagall slowed down to allow the student to catch up with her so they could walk side by side. The young woman's step was not of somebody new to the castle. She didn't look up in awe at the moving portraits or the changing staircases, and even if she was accustomed to them in her old school, that didn't explain the assurance with which she made her way to Dumbledore's office. She didn't stumble, didn't look at her to ask for directions. It was as though she knew the way there herself.

Hermione stopped in front of the stone gargoyle and looked expectantly at Professor McGonagall, like she was waiting for her to say the password that would allow her access to the spiral stairs.

"What is your name?" Professor McGonagall asked her instead.

Hermione managed to steady both her voice and gaze. "Regina Weisz."

The old witch nodded, committing the name to memory, then turned to face the statue. "Chocolate Frog!" she declared. The gargoyle came to life and sprang aside to reveal the staircase.

"You may enter now. The stairs will take you to Dumbledore's office."

Hermione smiled and thanked her before stepping onto the first rung of the stairs. Her trepidation increased as the steps slowly whirled up, dizzying her. After several seconds, she found herself staring at a gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. She hesitated only for a moment and decided to knock.

The door silently opened. Hermione stepped in to see Dumbledore sitting on his desk, relaxed, drumming his fingers on his table. She slowly approached him, careful not to break any of the silver, seemingly magical instruments that almost filled the room.

Dumbledore stood up just as Hermione neared his table. "Ah, the new student," he greeted with a smile, extending his hand for Hermione to shake. "Have a seat, please."

Hermione shook his hand and took the seat. "Good afternoon, Professor," she returned courteously. She watched as Dumbledore himself sat down and peered intently at her through his half-moon spectacles.

"I heard of your unexpected arrival at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said after a few seconds of silence. "The school register showed no sign of such, so your presence here demands an explanation, as I'm sure you expected. Do you have any?"

_Here it is._ Hermione took a deep breath. "I really don't know where to start, sir. Why don't you ask me questions, and I will try my best to answer them?"

Dumbledore considered her. It was a smart answer, and somehow, he knew it would reveal very little information about her. "Very well. Where did you come from?"

"I cannot say."

"If so, why are you here?"

Hermione bit her lower lip. "I'm very sorry, Professor, but I can't tell you that either."

Dumbledore's gaze grew more perceptive. He leaned forward in his seat. "Tell me what you can say then."

"I call myself Regina Weisz."

He noted her choice of words. "What else, Miss Weisz?"

"I want to finish my seventh year here, Professor. I believe you and your staff won't find any trouble with me as a student."

"You came here just to study?" Dumbledore asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from her.

"No, and you know that, sir."

"If you do not have any real purpose here, then I suggest that you must leave at once."

Hermione met his intelligent blue eyes and stood her ground. "I made considerable effort to be here, Professor. I could have failed, but I succeeded. That means I should do what I came to do."

"I'm listening, Miss Weisz. What is that exactly?"

Hermione sighed. How she wished she knew. "I really don't know, Professor."

The headmaster regarded her for several more moments. Finally, his shoulders drooped slightly, as though in compromise. "When a man is in doubt, he must rely on his instincts. I do not think you mean any harm, Miss Weisz. Although essentially you have told me nothing, I accept you in this school in the belief that someday, you will tell me what this is all about."

Hermione's head jerked upward in surprise. Did he just give in that easily? "Professor—" She pursed her lips. "I told no lies, and of all the truth I could."

"I understand." Dumbledore smiled at her. "You may go now, Miss Weisz. I hope you enjoy your stay at Hogwarts."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Okay, I cut it off there because again, I didn't think the original chapter I planned would come out this long. So I'm just going to include the next half in the next chapter. My, my. Hermione does seem to be having second thoughts about the whole thing, doesn't she? ;)

Oh, and I messed up the timeline. My apologies. I've readjusted the years and my previous calculations on the Time-Turner as well. This story was set during Harry's seventh year (1997-1998). James defeated Voldemort in October 1981, so technically that was seventeen years ago. However, Hermione travelled back in time to that year when the Marauders were in their seventh year, which I took to be in 1979 for convenience. This deviated from the accepted timeline provided in the HP Lexicon, which estimated the last year of the Marauders to be in 1977. Yeah, I cheated James's age by two years. ;)

Don't forget to review:)


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **There! Chapter 10 is the real new chapter. The chapter numbers were shaken up a bit because, I repeat, Chapter 7 was cut in half and revised because it was too long, as advised by my beta, Bobbey. Anyway, this chapter was supposed to cover the second half of the previous chapter, but it ended up being too long _again_. Haha. So it'll take another chapter to wrap up what supposedly was finished last chapter. ;) But no, this isn't a filler. Oh, and the title came from a song by one of our nation's best singers, Lea Salonga. Hope you enjoy:)

**Chapter Summary: **In an attempt to make James notice her, Hermione plans Operation Number three hundred and seventy-nine with the Marauders. It seems like somebody else is being charmed, however…

* * *

**Chapter 10****: Friend of Mine**

_Can you read my mind?  
Do you know what it is you do to me?  
Wondering why you are  
All the wonderful things you are.  
You can fly  
You belong to the sky  
You and I  
We belong to each other.  
If you need a friend  
I'm the one to fly to.  
If you need to be loved  
Here I am.  
Read my mind._

_--- Leslie Bricusse (Can You Read My Mind) ---_

"Remus, could you please get that bag of valerian roots for me?" Lily asked later in Potions class, pointing to a package a few feet from her.

James sneaked a glance at the clock in the dungeons, noting that the past hour was almost up and that he needed another dose of Polyjuice Potion. His insides clenched unpleasantly at the thought of drinking that disgusting brew all over again. He didn't think he could ever rub its taste off his tongue. Nevertheless, a plan was a plan. He pulled out a small jug from his bag, uncapped it and bravely took the required volume in one large gulp, concentrating with all his strength so he wouldn't spit it out.

"Remus, could you get that bag for me, please?" Lily repeated.

James took no notice of her, still trying to calm the churning sensation in his gut. He gripped the edges of the table for support.

Lily tapped him on the shoulder. "Remus," she said once more.

James looked a bit startled. Why was Lily talking to him?

"You look ill, Remus," she commented, her vivid emerald-green eyes looking into his with much more concern than he ever deserved.

"No—I'm—I'm fine," James answered lamely, finally remembering that he was supposed to be Remus. He almost felt jealous of the way Lily cared about his friend. "Don't worry about me."

Lily smiled at him and reached for the bag of valerian roots herself. Of the Marauders, it was Remus she best got along with. He didn't talk unnecessarily, unlike James. He didn't strut around thinking he was heaven's gift to women, unlike James. He didn't hex people for the fun of it. Unlike James.

With this last thought, she looked at James, who was working across the room. He seemed very quiet that day, which was so unlike him. Lily watched him as he worked on his own—and surprisingly, apart from Sirius.

"So, Lily," James began conversationally as they let their solutions simmer for a while. "Has James asked you out lately?"

He almost winced at the disgruntled expression that appeared on Lily's face at the mere mention of his name.

"No, thank Merlin," Lily answered. She leaned back against one of the tables and crossed her arms. "Now, don't tell any of your friends, but I'm actually quite relieved he has not been—you know—talking to me. Sometimes, Potter is just too… much."

James was staggered at her reaction. "He really is a nice guy, Lily," James defended himself. "He just acts stupid around you because he likes you a lot. I hope you give him a chance so you'll see for yourself how he really is."

Lily looked into Remus' blue eyes and gave a tinkling laugh. "I've seen a lot of James Potter, Remus, and I believe I've seen enough. Did he ask you to talk to me about him? Because if he did—"

James was feeling more disheartened by the moment, but he faked a big smile as he shook his head. "No, of course not, Lily. It's just that, well, I thought I'd help James out. With you, I mean," he added softly.

"I don't think you should waste any more effort on me," Lily remarked, glancing at James once more. This time he was talking to that new, brown-haired girl while smiling down at her. Lily swallowed and realised how good-looking he really was. _If only he was a little less arrogant, a little more mature…_

"What do you mean?"

Lily gestured in their direction. "He seems to be pretty friendly with that new girl already. Regina, I believe?"

James looked daggers at both Remus and Hermione, hoping they would notice. He was grateful for both their help, but did they have to ruin things _right now_? If Remus liked her, he should not be making his moves while he looked like him!

"You got her name right," James told Lily. "But James is just doing his job as Head Boy, making sure that Regina knows her way around school. You see, he really is responsible. He also felt he should welcome her warmly so she would immediately feel at home." He gritted his teeth as he saw Remus inch closer to Hermione. "James isn't interested in her."

"If you say so. It really doesn't matter to me what James does." Lily shook her head in amusement. "Boy, you really stick up for each other, don't you?"

_James? Not Potter? Did she just call me by my first name?_ He beamed at her, admiring once more how pretty she was. "That's what brothers do. So what about me—er—James, huh? Will you give him a chance?"

Lily sighed. "Maybe. We'll see," she answered, wanting the conversation about James to end there. "Oh, look, your potion's more bubbly than usual, isn't it? Let me help you fix that…"

* * *

It was half past eight in the Gryffindor common room that evening when James, looking like his old self once more, returned from his evening security rounds with Lily.

"Goodnight, Lily," James called before she started for the stairs to her dormitory.

Lily did not even bother looking back at him.

Sirius looked at his best friend to see how he was taking it and was surprised to see him still with a grin on his face. "Didn't Lily just ignore you?"

James plunked down on the couch next to Peter. "She's going to be paying a lot of attention to me soon, don't worry."

"Confident, aren't we?" Sirius snickered. "What made you say that?"

"Well, today at Potions, she noticed me—I mean Remus—being too friendly with Regina. _She noticed me!_ I think she's somewhat jealous."

The three other Marauders burst out laughing. "Just because of that?" Remus asked.

"Yes!" James exclaimed. "It's a sign, you know. I'm getting to her. And when I asked her if she'd give James—I mean me—a chance, she said _maybe_. That's almost a yes!" He slapped Remus playfully on his shoulders. "By the way, mate, next time you want to score some points with Regina, do it when you're not looking like me. While it's helpful on one hand because I think it makes Lily jealous, I don't want her to think I'm losing interest in her."

Remus frowned. "But I wasn't cosying up to her. I was just…" His voice trailed off. "I was trying to make her feel welcome. I mean, you haven't exactly made her feel that."

James bit his lower lip, remembering what he'd told Lily. "Did you tell her I thanked her? I'm so glad our plan worked. I'm going to ask Lily out tomorrow night."

"Yes, I told Regina you were grateful for her help," Remus replied. "But she didn't think you were sincere."

James shrugged that off. "That's the least of my troubles now, Remus."

"Why didn't you ask Lily out tonight?" Peter asked.

James grinned and raked his fingers through his hair. "Because, Peter, I decided to give her some time to think things over. It just makes sense not to rush her."

Peter looked somewhat doubtful at his friend's twist of logic, as though one night wouldn't make much difference, but he nodded anyway. "I see."

"Well, good luck, James," Remus said. "I do hope you get her to say yes."

"Me too," Sirius piped in, a mischievous smile on his face. "I'd hate to plan Operation Number three hundred and seventy-nine."

James threw a couch pillow at him.

* * *

"Hi, Lily," James greeted her as she passed by during breakfast the following morning. Lily simply ignored him and walked straight to her usual place beside Alice.

"Doesn't seem like a good sign, mate," Sirius commented, buttering a piece of toast.

James shrugged. "That's just Lily being herself, Padfoot. After all, she needs to keep up her act."

Remus shook his head in incredulity. "I cannot believe how optimistic you are being." _What if she says no?_

"What if—" Peter tried to voice Remus' doubts, but James sharply cut him off.

"She'll say yes later. You'll see."

Silence descended upon the boys. Remus looked around the Great Hall and saw Hermione several feet away from them, eating alone and scribbling on a spare parchment.

"Regina," he called. She did not look at him. "Regina!" he repeated, louder this time.

Hermione looked at him with a dazed expression on her face, as though shaken out of deep thought. Her cheeks were flushed; it looked like she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing.

"What is it?"

Remus smiled invitingly at her. "Do you want to join us for breakfast?" he asked, gesturing at his fellow Marauders.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. She wasn't expecting this question, and she didn't think any of the other boys were either. James was pensively staring at his plate, Sirius was busy catching the eye of a brunette seated at the Ravenclaw table, and Peter was too preoccupied with food to notice anything else. Hermione smiled wryly. "No, thanks," she called back. "I'm almost done, anyway." _Besides, I don't think I'll feel any more welcome than I do now._

Remus just nodded as Hermione resumed writing. He wondered whether she had made any friends. She didn't seem to need any permanent companion and seemed content to just hang around by herself and talk to whomever was in the vicinity. _Doesn't she get lonely? How is she getting by without anything?_ Remus both pitied and admired her, wishing he could be her friend—that the Marauders could be her friends too. _Fat chance_.

James felt Sirius nudge his foot. He wrinkled his forehead. "What?"

Sirius waggled his eyebrows, and his eyes darted to Severus Snape, who was walking rapidly towards the Gryffindor table. "He seems to be heading for Evans."

James instantly swivelled around, his eyes narrowed. "Look at his robes," he observed distastefully, noting how frayed the edges were and how they hung inches above his feet.

"Well, what did you expect?" Sirius asked. "I doubt he can even afford anything to wash his—ugh—do you call that hair?"

James clenched his fists as he watched Lily amicably accommodate _Snivellus_. "How can she stand that slimy git? He called her a Mudblood two years ago!"

"Let me handle it, Prongs," Sirius said, smirking. Both Peter and Remus had also turned their attention to Snape. "I'll teach Evans not to play with fire."

James's eyes widened. "No, wait, Sirius!" he protested. The memory of that horrible night at the Shrieking Shack was still fresh in his mind, and he certainly did not want Sirius to get into trouble again. But Sirius already had his wand aimed at the hem of Severus' robes. After only a split second, in which Sirius must have cast _Incendio!_ inside his head, Severus' uniform caught fire.

Sirius smiled secretively as he slipped his wand back inside his pocket and continued with breakfast. Despite himself, James's eyes glittered dangerously. He sat back in his chair and enjoyed the sight of his enemy trying to stamp on his own short robes to put the fire out. Peter was also holding back snickers, pretending to drink so others wouldn't see the smirk on his face. Only Remus wore a somewhat concerned look, but he quickly shrugged off the guilt that had ensued and simply looked away.

"Really," James said spitefully. "And I thought he was supposed to be the smartest in Slytherin. All he needs to say is _Aguamenti_." Severus was still stamping on his clothes and jumping up and down at the same time. "What do you say, Padfoot? Should I award you ten points for Gryffindor?"

Apparently, Lily had enough presence of mind to cast _Aguamenti_. She turned her wand on Severus and doused him with water, effectively killing the flames. She looked over where the Marauders were sitting and glared at them. She abruptly stood up and marched towards them, her hands on her hips.

"Don't tell me, Evans," Sirius said. "Ten points from Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on a student!" he whined in a bossy, high-pitched voice that was a parody of Lily's.

Lily smirked. "Make it twenty points, Black."

Sirius merely raised both his eyebrows in a mock expression of innocence and then looked back at James, who suddenly had a worried look on his face as he watched Lily walk away. Sirius shrugged. "Next time, I'm using waterproof fire."

* * *

James's heart was pounding so loudly, he was surprised Lily did not hear it. It was almost nine o' clock. The two of them were heading back to the Gryffindor common room after their nightly security rounds, and still he had not asked her out.

He jammed his clammy hands into his pockets as they continued to walk in silence. He stifled a laugh as he wondered what everybody would say if they knew how nervous he—_the_ James Potter—was at that moment. Nobody would have believed it anyway, even if he shouted it in their faces.

"Lily," he started, gently but firmly.

Lily turned to look at him, her eyebrows arched. "What is it this time?" she asked coldly.

_Why is she always cross with me? _James flashed his most charming smile at her, the one knew drove most girls crazy, in the hope that it would lighten her mood. "The next Hogsmeade weekend's in time for Valentine's."

"So? What if it is?" Lily was frowning now.

"Would you like to go out me?" he asked hopefully, looking straight into her lovely green eyes. _I can happily drown in them_. "Have lunch or something?"

Lily snorted. "As if, Potter," she retorted and started walking a little faster.

"Hey!" James said, picking up his pace too. "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, didn't I?" she challenged. "I'll give you one guess."

James's smile widened. "Yes?"

Lily rolled her eyes at him, and even then, James could not help but appreciate what a lively shade of green they were. "Wrong again. The answer's no."

James's eyebrows jumped. "No?" he echoed. Did she just say no _again_ to _him_—Head Boy, Quidditch Captain and Seeker Extraordinaire? "Did I hear that right?"

"Let me spell it out for you, Potter. N-O. No."

The stunned expression remained on his face. "But you said—you said you'd give me a chance!"

_I did?_ Lily narrowed her eyes at him. _Of course._ Remus must have told him. _Never, ever trust a Marauder._ "You lost it when you hexed Severus this morning," she answered tartly.

James blinked. "Severus?" he repeated stupidly. _Oh, right_. He had forgotten that slimy git's proper first name, having called him Snivellus for most of his life. "I had nothing to do with it!" he protested. "Honest!"

"It doesn't matter," she answered sceptically. "I'm sure one of the Marauders was responsible for it. And even if it wasn't you, I doubt you regret having one of your immature friends set fire to his robes."

He frowned at her. "Why should I feel sorry for him? He's nothing but a greasy slimeball with a large, hooked nose for a horn!"

"And you're the world's biggest, most obnoxious prat!" Lily snapped back, her voice rising.

"I cannot believe this! You're actually standing up for him!"

"I'd rather go out with him too, if you want to know the truth," Lily replied nastily, although she almost gagged at the mental image of being alone with Severus. She had not forgotten the time he had called her a Mudblood even after she had defended him against the Marauders, but she treated him civilly only because she did not want to sink to his level. It was what the Marauders kept doing, and it annoyed her.

Lily did not expect the laugh that escaped his lips. She slightly drew in her shoulders as a light shiver coursed through her. His laugh was deep, throaty, and masculine; if it wasn't full of amusement directed at her, she would have thought him attractive. Almost.

James shook his head in disbelief and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Come on, Lily. Both of us know you're lying," he answered smugly. "Every other girl in school wants to go out with me and would probably die on the spot if I asked them out."

Blood rushed straight to her head at his words. This was exactly what she hated about Potter. He was _never_ sincere. He showered her with his attention only because she never showed any sign of wanting any of it.

"I am not any other girl, Potter."

James broke into one of his infuriating, know-it-all grins. "Of course I know that, Lily. In fact, you're quite extraordinary. It's why I like you, and why I keep asking you out. If you'd just say yes, I'd stop bugging you." He was tapping one foot on the floor and was wearing a contented look on his face, like he was confident she was going to say yes any moment now.

Damn her if she would.

Lily turned on her heels and sped towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. She heard his quick footsteps behind her.

"Lily—"

She whirled around one last time to face him, her eyes shooting off sparks. James cowered somewhat and stepped back.

"For the last time, idiot, I said _no_. Now leave me alone," she whispered steely. She couldn't have sounded more alarming if she had shouted.

"House Cup," Lily sharply told the Fat Lady afterwards.

The portrait swung open to admit her, and she stomped her way inside. James trailed behind, still looking petrified at how awry things had gone. Once he was inside, James closed the door weakly behind him, his distraught hazel eyes following Lily as she marched to the stairs leading to her dormitory. His fellow Marauders, who were lounging about near the fire, looked up at the sudden change in the air. Hermione, who was comfortably curled up on a couch and reading a book she had borrowed from Remus, need not look at Lily's stormy expression to sense the hostility she and James had brought into the room.

They all listened to Lily's disappearing footsteps, glancing at each other warily and at James, who remained standing by the door. It was like waiting for a time bomb to explode. Only when they heard an upstairs door slam did Sirius breathe an audible sigh of relief. The bang shook James out of his stupefied silence. He dragged his feet to the couch, slumped on an empty spot next to Remus, and stared sullenly into the fire.

"Don't tell me," Sirius said. "She said no?"

Remus scowled at him and looked carefully at James. "What happened, mate?" he asked offhandedly.

"You heard him," James replied shortly.

"She said no?"

James threw Peter an exasperated glance before retorting, "If she said otherwise, would I be sitting here, grumpily answering your stupid questions?"

Everyone fell quiet, and the only sound that could be heard in the room came from the crackling of the flames. James reached out and tossed a piece of wood into the fire.

"Was it really that bad?" Remus enquired.

James laughed derisively as he leaned back again. "I didn't think she disliked me that much, or even that seriously."

"Were you arrogant with her again?" Remus asked once more.

"What do you mean?" James replied irritably. He was in no mood to be interrogated.

Remus sighed and said wryly, "Did you, by any chance, say anything about her refusal to go out with you being her loss?" There was a time not too long ago that James ended up being slapped hard on the face after telling Lily exactly that. Remus doubted his friend had yet learned his lesson.

"No, of course not!" James reacted violently. "Why would I do that?"

"How about mentioning the many other girls who would want to go out you?" Remus asked.

James was about to deny the allegation a second time, but his words suddenly came back to him. His eyes widened in realisation, and his shoulders hunched in defeat. "Uh — yes. I think I might have said that," he admitted, mentally slapping himself. _Wrong move again, Potter._

Sirius snickered. No wonder Lily had been so angry.

"Hey, it just came out," James added defensively. "After she said she would rather go out with Snape. That was some bombshell she threw at me."

"She's crazy," Peter said scornfully. "Who would want to go out with Snape?"

Remus groaned. "James, how many times have I told you that she's just trying to rile you each time she does that? You didn't have to call her bluff."

"You do it then, if you're so smart," James muttered. "It's not as if she's the easiest girl to get along with."

Sirius smirked. "I think you should draw up a list of the things James must _not_ say in front of Evans, Moony. Have him memorise a script or something."

James glowered at him. "That's downright pathetic. I don't need that."

"There's no point blaming Prongs," Peter interjected firmly before either Sirius or Remus could say anything that could incite James further. "What's done is done."

Quiet followed Peter's words, and for some time the four of them just gazed broodingly at the fire. Hermione watched them from behind the book she was supposedly reading, intrigued by the varying brands of friendship that existed among the four. Sirius was obviously James's best friend, which was why he had the liberty of teasing him openly without hurting his feelings. Remus was the more prudent one, careful with his words and actions. And Peter, he undoubtedly looked up so much to James, that it pained Hermione to know he was going to betray him later on.

"Well, do we have Operation Number three hundred and seventy-nine?" Sirius asked, grinning cheekily.

James turned to glare at his so-called best friend, but ended up laughing the night's troubles away. Sirius' flippancy always cheered him up. "It was my fault, I guess," he said sheepishly.

"No, it was Lily's fault," Peter declared with utmost certainty. His three friends looked at him curiously. "I mean, James is a great guy. If she doesn't see that—"

James gave another laugh and patted Peter on the shoulder. "It's fine with me now, mate. I can always try again."

"Next time you should show her just how great a guy you are," Hermione butted in, unable to keep silent any longer. "If you really are, I mean," she added hastily, colouring faintly.

"Nobody asked for your opinion." Sirius was quick on her case once more, as usual.

Hermione merely shrugged off Sirius' rudeness as though she was completely used to it. "You needed a girl's perspective, so I gave you one," she told James. "You don't have to take my word for it." Odd as it was for her to keep on trying to help James get together with Lily when she wanted the man for herself, those were the only times he really ever looked at her. She wasn't about to pass up small opportunities such as those and would rather take everything she could get, in the hope that maybe—just maybe—he would finally notice her in a different way. In _that_ way.

It was almost comical, really, bending time to her will just to be with him. Only she seemed to have chosen a time when he _didn't_ want to be with her. _Never the time and place and the loved one, all together._ But even so, Hermione did not feel any need to rush things, or to give up and flip the Time-Turner nineteen times forward to return to her own time. She wouldn't despair that easily. She had to hold out. Just in case.

Just in case Lily Evans decided to break James Potter into pieces, she had to be there to catch them.

"I have no problem getting girls to come on to me," Sirius said, his casual voice an attempt at humility. "My difficulties usually lie with fighting them off when they get a little too demanding."

_Very mature_. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. "This isn't about you, Sirius. Besides, I notice you don't seem to have any trouble warding off Lily Evans."

Sirius started to say he didn't care much about Evans anyway, but James held up one hand to stop him.

"Go on, then," James told Hermione patiently, playing along with her. "What do you propose I do?"

Hermione sat up a little straighter, a little surprised at James's reaction. She shrugged again, momentarily at a loss for words. "Just be yourself," she ended up saying vaguely.

James looked taken aback at her suggestion. "I am myself around her, thank you very much."

"No, you're not," Remus answered quietly. "You show off so she'll notice you, and in the process end up looking more obnoxious than you really are. Come to think of it, you don't really need to do that, because you already stand out just the way you are. Regina's right. You are a great guy, but it wouldn't matter if she can't see that. So you _have_ to_ make_ her see that."

Sirius snorted. "You're really good at playing the shrink, Moony. How's Prongs supposed to do that? Be nice? As in Moony-nice?"

Remus smiled slightly at his analogy. "Somewhat, yeah."

"But if I try to be Moony-nice," James said, "then that's just like not being myself." He grinned. "Especially since Moony is quite a tough act to follow."

Peter turned to look intently at James. "But you are nice, James. You always help me with schoolwork. With everything."

Sirius frowned as James laughed, although a little uneasily, at Peter's words. _When is he going to outgrow buttering up to Prongs? If this doesn't stop soon, he'll be starting a James Potter fan club. Creepy._

"I understand what you're saying, Remus," James said, returning to the topic at hand. "But we already tried that, albeit indirectly. Operation Number three hundred and seventy-eight, which we put into action just yesterday, remember? In a way, I was Moony-nice for one day because _you_ were _me_ that day. But that didn't make Lily warm up to me. Not enough to say yes, anyway."

"I would have thought it was obvious why," Hermione said impatiently. "It didn't work because it was fake! You weren't sincere!"

"And if I try to be Moony-nice, to be caring and warm and compassionate towards everybody, would I be real? Would that make me sincere?" James's voice had grown louder and more forceful.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "It could, if you would just mean it," Hermione answered quietly. "I know you know how."

A thoughtful silence fell over the group. James was staring at Hermione as though he had never seen anybody like her. _Does she really think I'm that… good inside?_ He was so used to being called an egotistic jerk by most people who did not really know him; it was bizarre that she, whom he really knew only by name and for a mere couple of days, thought of him that way. _Maybe she's just like Moony and Dumbledore, always ready to believe the best in people._

James sighed and ran his hand through his hair, somewhat calming down. "So how long do I have to keep up the act?"

Hermione smiled, surprising everybody. She knew she had won. _I can see through him_. "Call it an act, if you will," she told him, a maddening, knowing twinkle in her eyes, "but you have to keep it up for at least a couple of weeks."

"Two weeks?" James repeated, nonplussed. "That long?"

"I believe you'll find it comes easier with practice," Hermione quipped, still smiling. "If it isn't already innate in you."

"I think it's actually just right, James," Remus contributed. "A fortnight is enough to come across as convincing. Hopefully."

Sirius was getting more annoyed with each passing second, but he struggled to keep his mouth closed. It seemed like more than one romantic match was being designed at the moment. _Of course he agrees with Regina. He always does._

Hermione smiled gratefully at Remus as their eyes met. _Thanks for sticking up for me._

Remus smiled back at her, getting the message and noticing the dimple on her left cheek. _You're welcome._

James stifled a smirk at the subtle exchange between the two. "So what am I going to do after two weeks?"

"That's easy," Hermione answered brightly. "Once you think you've got Lily convinced, ask her again. Go all out. You know the works—flowers, chocolates, a teddy bear, maybe even some romantic music…"

James looked horrified. "I am not a sap!"

"Of course you're not," Hermione replied amusedly. "But you'd do anything to win Lily over, wouldn't you?"

James looked at Sirius for help, but even he seemed to be mulling over Hermione's suggestion. "For once, I'm going to agree with you," he told Hermione, grinning. "She's right, mate. Girls do dig flowers, chocolate, the whole lot. It would be the perfect ending to the perfect plan."

"Not really," Peter said. "The perfect ending would be Lily's yes."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Do you really always strive to be politically correct?"

"Sirius, that's enough," James said, cutting their petty squabble short. He turned to Hermione and sighed. "Fine. I'll go along with your plan."

"Wait a moment, Prongs. I feel it's my duty as your best friend to warn you that you are running the risk of ruining your reputation." Sirius smirked at him.

"Never mind that. After all, you're really the one with an image to take care of," James said. "So, do you have any more instructions I should remember?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips. "There's one more thing." She restrained herself from grinning, knowing that what she was about to say was going to cause an uproar. "No pranks should be played for the whole of two weeks—and yes, that includes pointing your wands in directions other than Snape's."

Cries of protest, as expected, were heard from Sirius, James and Peter, while Remus only smiled in response. Only he saw it coming.

"That's rubbish!" Sirius exclaimed. He turned to James. "Prongs, surely you agree things are going way too far?"

"Bollocks! How can you suggest that we keep ourselves from our favourite form of entertainment?" Peter whined. "That's too much to ask! And all for a girl!"

_That's nothing compared to what I did to be with a man._ "Find alternative ways of amusing yourselves, then," Hermione answered. "You need your friends' cooperation in this, James. All four of you are always held responsible for whatever each one of you does."

James smiled ruefully. "She's right, you know," he said, earning wintry looks of disapproval from his friends. "Remember when I said I asked Lily if she would give me a chance, and she said _maybe_? I reminded her of that a while ago when she refused me once more, but she said I lost my chance when I hexed Snape this morning." He glanced sideways at Sirius. "And _I_ certainly didn't curse Snivellus."

Sirius exhaled noisily. "All right, stop the guilt trip," he conceded gruffly. "Two weeks, mate. Only for two weeks."

"There's no guarantee Snape wouldn't hex us, especially with our backs turned," Peter argued. "If that happens, we are so allowed to jinx him senseless, whether you agree or not."

Hermione tossed one hand carelessly in the air. "It's your call," she told Peter nonchalantly. She closed Remus' book with a snap, stood up and handed it back to him. "Here, thanks for letting me borrow it."

Remus' wolf-sharp olfactory senses caught a waft of the vanilla scent she wore, and he had to resist inhaling more deeply. Instead, he gave her another warm smile. "Don't mention it."

"I'm turning in," Hermione announced, concealing a yawn with the palm of her hand. "Good night." She flashed one quick smile at the Marauders before sauntering off to the stairs to her dormitory. _Things are looking up._

"Hey, Regina," James called after her.

She turned and waited expectantly for him to say something.

"Thank you," he said genially, smiling at her.

Hermione smiled softly, treasuring the moment. It was, after all, the first real smile he had given her in his time. She merely nodded in acknowledgement and resumed walking towards the stairs. _Things are definitely looking up._

Sirius waited for Hermione to be out of earshot before speaking. "What a know-it-all." Remus opened his mouth to speak in Hermione's defence, but Sirius immediately added, "I know _you_ think she's incredible, Moony. We don't have to agree."

Remus flushed. "She has a good head on her shoulders, doesn't she? I'm glad she was able to share some of her sense with you," he told James.

"Right. It was her fabulously rational savvy that attracted you," Sirius said sceptically.

_That, and __her fiery coffee-coloured eyes, and the dimple that appears whenever she smiles…_ A small smile curved his lips, but Remus did not bother saying the words aloud.

Sirius pondered Remus for one more moment and then grinned. "Well, mate, you know what to do. Chocolate, flowers, teddy bear, and maybe romantic music—you know the works." He winked.

Remus laughed and shook his head. Sirius was just impossible sometimes. He glanced at James, who was staring at the fire once more, his features lit up with renewed hope. He smiled and leaned back against the couch, a feeling of serenity sweeping over him.

_Thank you, Regina._


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **This chapter should probably be titled 'How to Say Nothing in Four Thousand Plus Words'. Just kidding. ;) It's just that I had to write the scenes in this chapter to make the story more complete. So there. Hope you enjoy anyway. :) The title came from a song by Green Day, which is of the same title. Thanks to my beta, Bobbey, who did another splendid job going over this.

**Chapter Summary: **Voldemort's darkness is seeping into Hogwarts, and yet James worries himself with the execution of Operation Number three hundred and seventy-nine, Lily concerns herself with the Marauders' drastic change in behaviour, Hermione remembers Remus' furry little problem, and Peter discovers the existence of a certain Hermione Granger.

* * *

**Chapter 11: ****Whatsername**

_It's been a long and winding journey  
But I'm finally here tonight.  
Picking up the pieces  
And walking back into the light.  
Into the sunset of your glory  
Where my heart and future lie.  
There's nothing like that feeling  
When I look into your eyes.  
My dreams came true  
When I found you  
My miracle.  
If you could see what I see  
You're the answer to my prayer_

_--- Jorgen Elofsson and John Reid (Angels Brought Me Here) ---_

"Why are you so quiet?" Peter asked James through a mouthful of raisin bread. It was breakfast in the Great Hall the next day, and instead of goofing around like he usually did, or staring helplessly at Lily, James was poring over a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"I'm reading," James murmured in reply. His hazel eyes were intently scanning the story under the day's banner, _Lord Voldemort Strikes Anew_. Underneath it was the sub-headline _Second giant 'hurricane' this month_.

Sirius snorted as he took another slice of meat pie. "Nobody here reads the _Daily Prophet_. No student, anyway. That paper's a waste of good trees."

"Sometimes there's some truth hidden under the rubbish they publish." James looked up from the newspaper, his expression thoughtful. "This Voldemort, what does he want? Why is he attacking Muggles again? That's his second attack this year, and it's only January."

Sirius choked on his food. "I didn't know you knew about him," he wheezed.

"Cut the crap, Sirius," James said. "Of course I know about him; I'm getting the _Prophet_ delivered everyday. Besides, he came to my parents and offered them to be of service to him. _Offered_ them, as if my parents owed him their lives and would be very grateful for a chance to do his bidding!"

"He visited Grimmauld Place, too," Sirius said grimly. "Why do you think he was trying to recruit our families?"

"Because we're rich?"

"That's just half of it," Sirius said casually. "The other half is that we're purebloods."

James frowned. "So he's attacking Muggles just because they cannot do magic?"

"And all the others who he deems are unworthy to practice magic. Muggleborns. Half-bloods. Half-breeds."

Remus' eyes flickered over to them, overhearing Sirius' last word.

"I suppose your parents didn't agree," Sirius continued after downing a cup of hot chocolate.

"Obviously," James answered wryly. "My family doesn't bother itself with all that obsession about the purity of blood."

"I wish mine was like that, too," Sirius said bitterly. He glanced at the Slytherin table, where his younger brother, Regulus, sat. Whenever he looked at him, it was as if he was looking at somebody so much older than him. Gone was the whiny, petty, little brother Sirius knew. In his place was a young man with secretive, shallow black pools for eyes, complimented by the mask-like expression he now seemed to wear permanently.

"I hope your parents are safe," Sirius said, still looking at Regulus.

James's heart began beating faster. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

"He kills without remorse," Sirius said, turning to look back at him with a crooked smile. "And he doesn't see the world in shades of grey. Either you're on his side or you're not. But I suppose he's a bit more merciful to descendants of ancient Wizarding families, seeing as there are very few left."

"Godric's Hollow is well-protected, what with being Unplottable and with the wards set up. I'm sure they're okay," James said calmly. Inside, however, his nerves were strung. _I should owl Mum and Dad right after breakfast, just to make sure they're fine._

Sirius nodded understandingly, as though he believed him. He decided not to voice the rest of his doubts. Voldemort knew how to find anybody anywhere, Unplottable or no, with or without wards. He didn't want to further James's worries, however, knowing how much he cared about his parents. _At least there's one of us who does._

"There's no need to worry. Not yet anyway, while Hogwarts stands. People reckon it's the safest place to be in, especially with Dumbledore around," Sirius reassured him.

"I bet Voldemort was a Slytherin," Peter commented. "Slytherins totally buy the pureblood mania, even if half of them aren't even really pure."

"Most likely, yeah," Sirius agreed. "Where else would he have learned his stuff?"

"They don't teach the Dark Arts here," Remus reminded, paying them proper attention for the first time that morning. "They teach _Defence Against_ the Dark Arts. I suppose he went to that other Wizarding school in Britain."

Sirius pulled a sceptical expression. "There is another Wizard school here? There can't be that many wizards in Britain. What's it called?"

"I don't know. After all, it's supposed to be a secret. I know only because I heard it from Regina," Remus said, glancing once more at Hermione. She was eating breakfast alone, as usual.

"Does that mean Regina knows Dark Magic too? She doesn't seem the type," Peter said thoughtfully.

Sirius snorted. "That's highly improbable. Moony just wants to bring her up whenever he can." He looked in the direction where Remus had been staring at for almost the entire time he, James and Peter had been talking. "Look, if you want to eat breakfast with her, why don't you approach her?"

Remus started guiltily but managed a small smile. "That's not necessary." Slightly embarrassed, he lowered his eyes to his plate and resumed eating.

"You'd rather she eat with us, don't you?" Sirius asked. "Why don't you ask her then?"

"I would have if I was sure you could restrain yourself from being rude," Remus replied mildly.

Sirius snorted once more and busied himself with devouring the remaining food on his plate. After a few moments, his head suddenly jerked upwards as he caught sight of somebody passing them. He could never really miss that greasy hair on that pretentious Slytherin's head; it was just too distinctive. He smiled maliciously and automatically reached for his wand on the table. James turned to look at what arrested his best friend's attention.

It was Snape.

Alarmed, James grabbed Sirius' wrist from across the table. "Sirius, don't! Don't! The plan!"

Sirius struggled, but stopped waving his wand in midair just in time. He threw James a dirty look. "Sorry. I forgot," he said, slapping his wand down on the table. He did not sound apologetic at all.

"I won't hesitate to take off a hundred points from Gryffindor next time you forget," James warned him.

Sirius sighed, leaned forward against the table and scowled from Remus to James and back again. "You know, I hope I'm never in love, seeing what it does to you. To both of you."

Remus blinked as though he did not quite understand what Sirius meant. "I'm not—"

"Oh, but it's a wonderful feeling, Padfoot," James interrupted, smiling serenely. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll meet your match someday."

Sirius harrumphed before saying, "What a boring day this is going to be."

James merely continued smiling. "Knowing you, you won't run out of creativity."

"Not if this lasts for two bloody long weeks," Sirius snapped, biting viciously into a buttered roll. "You owe me for this, mate. Big time."

* * *

Lily was twirling a lock of her hair around her left index finger and, at the same time, rolling a plume around in her right hand. She had been trying to start her Potions essay for the past two hours. Potions, along with Charms, was easily her best subject and she usually finished her assignments in a snap, but everything seemed extra difficult today. She exhaled and checked the clock standing in one corner. It was almost five o'clock, and she still had not accomplished anything concrete. She threw her quill on the table in frustration and shot an annoyed glance at the Marauders, who were occupying a table in the far end of the common room.

They had been getting on her nerves for more than a week now. Well, they normally did, but this time it wasn't because they were being too rowdy, or too noisy, or doing anything illegal. On the contrary, they were well-behaved. Almost _too_ well-behaved. They caused no accidents in any of their classes. There was no rambunctious laughter. Lily had yet to catch them playing another one of their ridiculous pranks on their fellow Gryffindors, or even on Slytherins. Severus had been completely hex-free for one whole week, even during that time he taunted Sirius about being a disgrace to the Black family. Ordinarily, Sirius would have turned his wand on his archenemy and hoisted him wordlessly upside-down in the air. But he didn't. He just smiled painfully at Severus and walked away. Severus himself was so stunned at Sirius' lack of reaction, he forgot all about cursing Sirius while his back was turned.

Then there was James, who had conducted himself so excellently as Head Boy over the past week. Amazingly, he had finally realised how ridiculous he looked whenever he was chasing that stupid Snitch without a broomstick and had entirely stopped doing that. He was also surprisingly courteous towards everybody, fairly taking and awarding points to those who deserved them. He certainly still had that air of arrogance around him, but even that was different somehow. Regal. It was as though he had finally realised the amount of power he held, but had been humbled enough to know how to wield it gracefully. Yes, he still strutted around looking like he was the Minister of Magic, but strangely, he now commanded respect.

He had also stopped bugging her to go out with him. _Good. The twit finally got it then._ James had also refrained from chattering incessantly during their evening rounds. In fact, if truth be told, he had practically stopped talking altogether. The silence made Lily feel uncomfortable, but every time she sneaked a look at James out of the corner of her eyes, she saw nothing but that unruffled expression on his face. Unconsciously, she noticed how it made his already strong facial features even more prominent. She hated his noise, but she hated his silence even more. It gave her the feeling that the pieces did not quite fit perfectly, that there was something she was missing.

Lily let out another breath and glanced at Alice, who had already filled out three feet of her parchment. _Professor Slughorn only asked for two_. Tamping down her irritation, she tapped her friend on the shoulder. "Alice."

Alice was obviously so engrossed with what she was writing, that she jumped at the mere mention of her name and accidentally toppled her bottle of ink. "What was that?" she asked irritably, cleaning up the small mess with her wand. Her eyes saw the still empty parchment in front of Lily. "I thought you were working."

Lily leaned closer to Alice. "Have you noticed anything strange about those four lately?" she whispered, her eyes focused on the Marauders.

Alice followed her line of sight and rolled her eyes. "Not really, Lily. But then again, it might be because I do not waste hours watching them. Or _one_ of them."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Lily asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Oh, you know," Alice said with a small laugh. She tucked stray strands of her blond hair behind her ears and propped her elbows on the table, surveying the Marauders while she talked. "I heard other girls talking about how mature the four of them have been acting lately. I thought their new strategy would drive away the girls obsessing over them, but—"

"Oh, yeah, the Marauders' pranks and teasing really make them irresistible," Lily muttered sarcastically.

Alice bit her lower lip and stifled a smile. In her opinion, Lily had always been oversensitive with anything that had to do with those four boys. "Well, I'm only repeating what I've heard other girls say, so don't bite my head off. Anyway, like I was saying, it seems they're as popular as ever. Even more so, perhaps. Lately, I've picked up sentiments on how their apparent maturity has made them even more appealing. Sexier, even." She picked up her quill and started writing again.

"Puh—lease," Lily drew out in exasperation. "Apparent maturity? It's all an act! I think they're up to something. A prank that's bigger than any they've ever played before. After all, we are about to leave school—and knowing them, they would think they owe it to the Hogwarts not to leave without a bang. Right now they're just biding their time and trying to throw everyone off their tracks."

"Maybe," Alice conceded, her eyes on her essay. She wondered if Lily noticed just how much she had whined about the Marauders over the past couple of days. She even had speculations that Lily's recent mood swings had something to do with James Potter almost ignoring her for a week. No matter how annoying James was, Alice supposed her friend enjoyed the way the guy made her feel special. All girls were like that—even beautiful, smart Lily Evans.

"Maybe? You don't agree with me, do you?" Lily asked persistently, her voice nearly shrill.

Alice sighed and put her quill down. "I think your arguments do have a point, Lily. However, since nothing has happened yet, everything you've said is technically still conjecture. Besides, what do you care if they're indeed planning something?"

Lily drummed her fingers on the polished wooden table, obviously not listening. "They're up to something, I'm sure of it," she muttered feverishly. "And I'm going to find out what it is."

Alice shrugged and carried on with her Potions essay. "Do you think their suddenly good behaviour has anything to do with that new girl?" she asked carelessly.

"Regina?" _Hmmm_. That was a thought. Lily didn't know much about the new student except that she was exceptionally brilliant in all of their classes. She didn't seem to be a talker and consequently did not appear to have any constant companion she could call her friend—although admittedly, she had been spending a lot of time with the Marauders. Nevertheless, Lily still wasn't buying the idea that a girl who did not even seem to have enough going on in her own life could significantly change the habits and lives of those around her.

"I don't think so. No," Lily murmured. _The Marauders have something up their sleeves. That's all there is to it._ Tired of thinking about it, she reached once more for her quill, dipped it in ink and held it aloft over her parchment, poised to write.

Words still failed her. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed her Advanced Charms book instead and started to read.

* * *

"Padfoot, could I have a look at your essay? The one for Sluggy?" Peter implored. Of the four of them—five, including Hermione—Sirius was the only one without a quill and parchment in front of him. Instead, his attention was focused on the set of Gobstones he was playing with and the bottle of butterbeer he had on the side.

"I haven't done mine yet," Sirius answered automatically as he prodded one of the stones with his wand. A marble squirted a gooey substance to an invisible opponent opposite him. Delighted, Sirius took another swig of butterbeer and smacked his lips.

James frowned. "What are you doing there then, messing around with Gobstones? We've got a lot of schoolwork piled up."

"Relax, Prongs," Sirius said, his grey eyes still on his game. "I can finish off that essay in an hour or so. Besides, I still have the rest of the night to do that. And will you please quit performing _that__act_ when you're around us? You're starting to sound like a pro."

_Was that bad?_ He would never openly admit it, but James actually found this so-called pretending far easier than supposedly being himself. It took less effort, after all, maintaining one's silence and appearing thoughtful rather than thinking of a thousand mischievous ways to entertain people. "I guess I should remind you then, Sirius, that you do not have _tonight_." The last word was spoken with finality.

Sirius glanced sharply out the window and then at Remus, who looked ill. A sudden expression of resolution tightened Sirius' features. "Alright, then. I'm going to start it now." He quickly put away his Gobstones set, grabbed a quill and a parchment lying around on the table, and started to write at once.

Peter groaned. "At this rate, Sirius will finish his before I do mine."

Hermione looked up from her own essay. She both wanted to tell Peter to sod off and to avoid talking to him as much as possible. "Which part exactly are you having problems with?" she asked anyway. "Maybe I can help." _Especially if it would finally keep you quiet._

Peter looked like he would collapse with relief when Hermione stood up, sat beside him, and began briskly reading his homework and pointing out inconsistencies.

"Padfoot, mate, do you have any butterbeer left?" Remus asked, his voice hoarse. "I desperately need something to warm me up, just enough to help me finish this blasted thing." He drew in a shaky breath and glanced at the clock. A quarter after five. _I need to be out of here in fifteen minutes_.

Sirius reached for his bag and pulled out another bottle of butterbeer, one of the leftovers from their last unlawful Hogsmeade trip. He wordlessly handed it to Remus, who quickly unscrewed the cap and took one, long drink.

Remus smiled afterwards. "Thanks, Sirius." He set the bottle down and started writing once more—faster this time, as though he would be turned into a pumpkin at five-thirty.

"You look pale, Prof—Remus," Hermione observed, stumbling over his name. She winced silently, wondering what made it difficult to call her professor by his first name. "Are you sick?"

Her words were a distraction, but Remus welcomed them especially since they came from her. "Quite," he answered, his smile bringing back some colour to his cheeks. "But this won't last. I'll be good as new tomorrow."

"You should go see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested, faltering at the end of her statement. She hoped they didn't find her knowledge of the school Healer strange.

Remus suddenly felt his blood pounding in his ears as the familiar feeling of fear rose in him. His head throbbed. _She should not know_. "Yes, that's what I'm going to do once I finish this essay. Knowing her, however, she'll probably be ordering me to spend the night in the hospital wing."

"Well, I do hope you feel better soon," Hermione said, smiling, before continuing with her writing.

"Thanks," Remus answered feebly. He wrapped up his own essay as soon as he could, his penmanship growing more unreadable with each minute. Finally, he dotted his last sentence with a shaking hand. After a hardly audible goodbye, he grabbed his cloak and hurriedly sailed out the portrait hole.

The four of them continued working for another hour and a half until it was time for dinner.

"Why don't you join us for dinner?" James asked Hermione as they descended the stairs to the Great Hall. He thought it was the least he could do for her, after all the help and sympathy she had offered them.

Hermione glanced at Sirius to see how he would react, but he seemed oblivious this time.

"Don't worry about him," James whispered in her ear. "I'll make sure he won't bite." _Remus would have wanted it, too._

Hermione smiled at his words. How could she resist him? The protective look in his eyes drew her in, and she nodded. "Now that's better."

The three Marauders, however, seemed to have no desire in taking their time to fill their appetites during dinner. They shoved their food into their mouths with a certain urgency that conveyed they had something better to do.

"Are you going to see Remus?" Hermione asked as she speared the chicken leg on her plate. She thought their friend could be the only reason they were acting that way, but she still couldn't see the need to hurry.

Peter tried to talk while his mouth was full and ended up gasping for air.

"_Anapneo_," James said calmly, his wand pointed at Peter. He offered him water afterwards, so that Peter was able to breathe normally again after a while.

"How did you know?" Peter sputtered, his voice croaky.

Sirius kicked Peter hard under the table, and he gave a loud yelp that attracted the attention of students around them. Abashed, Peter decided not to say anything else.

"Could I go see him too?" Hermione asked, a note of concern obvious in her voice.

"He's not in the hospital wing," James said.

Hermione's forehead wrinkled. "But he's ill. Where else would he be?"

"His mother is ill," Peter squeaked, repeating the excuse Remus used to give them back then. "He has gone home to visit her. You must have heard it wrong."

Hermione laughed, but it was without humour. "You're a pathetic liar, Peter. I hope you don't make the same mistake of trying to deceive someone again in the future." But he would. She knew he would. _Or would he?_ The idea of warning James about his friend's future betrayal had been tempting her for days, and she held herself back only because she knew the Potters would survive Voldemort's attack anyway. Besides, his betrayal was what paved the way for the Dark side's defeat. _Seems like he screws things up wherever he goes._

Sirius sighed. Peter was only making things worse for them. "Look, Regina, it's none of your business what we do."

Hermione blinked, tuning in once more to the ongoing conversation. _Really? And pray, tell, who has been helping James with Lily, Peter with his homework, however unwillingly…_ "Oh, of course," Hermione concurred easily, albeit through gritted teeth. "I was just worried you were going to break some school rules again and end up ruining _the plan_." She spoke the last few words with an air of intimacy, as though she was already one of them.

James shook his head. "No, no. This is different."

A sudden thought struck Hermione like a flash of lightning. She had forgotten! She quickly looked up and saw it—the full moon. The night was clear, and the moon's ominous light shone down on them from the enchanted ceiling. Hermione shuddered, comprehension dawning on her.

James had been watching Hermione and spotted her swift reaction to the full moon that had barely risen. Dread filled him. _No. She could not have worked it out so quickly. She must not know, for Remus' sake._ James feared the knowledge would ruin his friend's chances with this girl even before he started.

Hermione gnawed at her lower lip, pained at the thought of what Remus—who was so gentle, so mild-mannered—should go through tonight. She turned to look at James, and her eyes locked in with his. For the first time, James realised what an earthy shade of brown her irises were.

"I hope he's alright," Hermione said quietly.

James scrutinised her more closely, but didn't say anything.

Soon afterwards, the three boys stood up from the table. James shot Hermione a meaningful, pleading look, and she nodded to let him know she understood. He gave a tiny smile in relief, aware of what she meant. She knew about Remus' furry little problem, but it didn't matter to her.

_Moony is right. She really has a good head on her shoulders._ James decided that it would be a good boost to Remus' self-esteem to hear about it and resolved to tell him as soon as he could.

"Potter! Where do you think you're going?" a female voice called angrily as the three Marauders started making their way out.

James turned to see who had shouted and, to his amusement, realised it was Lily. _Missed me again so soon?_ he wanted to call back obnoxiously. He struggled against his impulse, however, and calmly walked towards her so that they could have a proper conversation without making a racket.

"I can't do Head Boy rounds tonight, Lily. I have something more important to attend to," he told her politely when he reached her.

"You do this every month!" Lily complained, pulling at her hair. "That's not fair. I've been covering up for you, but this time I'm going to tell the Headmaster!"

James fought with all his might to keep a cheeky retort in check. "Go ahead," he said, allowing himself a secretive smile. "After all, it's what you do best."

Lily was beside herself, she couldn't even speak. Satisfied with having the last word, James turned his back on her and strode towards the doors of the Great Hall, where Sirius and Peter were waiting.

"Wait here," James told them once they had stepped outside the Great Hall. "I forgot the map and the cloak. I'll just go get it upstairs." He dashed off without another word.

After several minutes he came back, slightly out of breath and his pockets bulging. He took out his Invisibility Cloak and motioned for Sirius and Peter to join him underneath. "Quick, just until we reach the Whomping Willow," he directed. It took almost a minute for them to make sure they were completely covered by the cloak, what with James and Sirius' statures and Peter's girth. Very, very quietly, they opened the castle doors and stepped out into the cold, wet night.

As soon as they were a few metres away from the castle, James reached once more into his robes, retrieved the map, and thrust it to Peter. "There," he said.

Peter automatically unrolled the parchment, tapped it with his wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

"What are you doing?" James asked him, confused. "I just wanted you to hold on to the map for the moment."

"Just checking, Prongs," Peter answered glibly. His small eyes quickly scanned the detailed interior of Hogwarts, mentally accounting for the teachers and staff who might not be inside and could therefore be prowling the grounds. "Everyone seems to be at dinner."

Sirius shrugged. "Well, yeah, that's why we left early this time around," he said.

Peter's eyes fell on the many names inside the Great Hall, and he sifted, with much more difficulty, among them. His forehead wrinkled as his gaze settled along the length of the Gryffindor table.

"Do either of you know a Hermione Granger?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I figured, after letting Hermione use another name, that it would be more realistic to put the map into the equation. Haha. ;) 


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **The title came from the theme song, performed by Barry Manilow, of the movie "Thumbelina". I use titles from songs because I listen to the radio often, and whenever I hear snatches of lyrics that touch my heart, I stop and think "Hey! That fits a scene in my story!" Haha. Hope it doesn't bother you. :)

**Chapter Summary: **James learns that the best isn't always good enough.

* * *

**Chapter 12****: Let Me Be Your Wings**

_When you try your best  
But you don't succeed  
When you get what you want  
But not what you need  
When you feel so tired  
But you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse  
And the tears come streaming  
Down your face  
When you lose something  
You can't replace  
When you love someone  
But it goes to waste  
Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you._

_--- Chris Martin (Fix You) ---_

"What's that?" James asked distractedly, his eyes still adjusting to the dark. He, Sirius and Peter were making their way to the Shrieking Shack after a rushed dinner.

"Hermione Granger," Peter repeated. "Do you know anyone with that name?"

"Nuh—uh," Sirius mumbled.

James also shook his head. "No, why?"

"She's seated at the Gryffindor table right now, and I've never seen her name before," Peter explained.

"Oh, probably just one of the more obscure, younger students we haven't experimented our tricks on yet," Sirius commented carelessly.

Peter did not look entirely convinced. Nevertheless, he tapped the map blank, rolled it and tucked it into his pocket.

* * *

The first week of February dawned with the melting of the snow that covered Hogwarts and the persistence of a dreary chill in the air. Sirius was sprawled on James's bed, celebrating the end of his two-week long sanction by mentally conjuring up new ways of hexing Severus Snape. "Oooohhh, the possibilities are endless," he said enthusiastically.

Remus, who was seated at the edge of James's bed along with Peter, reminded him, "You better wait until tomorrow, Padfoot. Prongs has a lot riding on tonight." He watched James shrink the large, white teddy bear and the box of Honeydukes' chocolate, both of which he had bought after sneaking out to Hogsmeade earlier that day.

Sirius stifled a laugh as James turned his attention to the variety of flowers scattered on the floor and tried to create a beautiful arrangement out of them. He, Peter and Remus had stayed outside, unwillingly, until after Quidditch practice, to help James pick out the flowers.

"This is totally unnecessary," Sirius had complained as a thorn pricked his finger. He had taken out his wand and cursed the plant until it shrivelled up. "Even that trip to Hogsmeade was pointless. I mean, you can conjure all this out of thin air!"

James had smiled that peaceful smile again, the one he always wore whenever he thought about Lily. "I want her to see I put a lot of effort into tonight, Sirius. I want her to be touched, to know I mean everything I'm going to say."

Sirius merely grumbled incoherently, but Remus thought he heard something about love making fools out of people. Privately, Remus believed James was going about everything the right way. If he had to impress a girl, he too would go all out just to please her. Except that he could never really summon enough courage to try, of course, with his curse—his furry little problem—always hanging over him. He knocked his fist on his head a couple of times to drive the dismal thoughts away.

Now James seemed to have decided a little magic wouldn't hurt. He waved his wand of mahogany over the flowers, and they gathered themselves up immediately to form an exquisite bouquet. He smiled, satisfied, and then shrank the bunch of flowers. He slid the diminutive chocolates, stuffed toy and flower arrangement into his pocket and then crouched on all fours to peer under his bed.

"What are you looking for?" Peter asked, swinging his legs up so James could have a better view.

"My Nimbus," James answered, stretching one arm to grab his broomstick. He stood up, one hand grasping its handle while the other brushed dust off his robes. In answer to their questioning faces, he grinned and messed up his hair. "I'm going to take her flying afterwards," he told them happily.

Remus smiled, amused. James was acting like a kid waiting for Christmas. "You really have everything planned, don't you?" He fervently hoped Lily would finally see James in a different light. _He really likes her._ "Good luck, James."

James rubbed his hands together. "I know it's unbelievable, but I'm really nervous."

"Why should you be?" Sirius asked. "You've done this three hundred something times before. If she says no again tonight, you can still keep on asking her."

James frowned, and Remus slapped Sirius hard on his leg.

"Don't mind him, James. You can do it," Remus said encouragingly. "Just remember to be yourself—your more sensitive self, that is."

"I'll try," he answered, his eyebrows still knitted together. James had vowed to himself that tonight would be his last shot at winning Lily Evans over and therefore refused to entertain any thoughts of rejection. He pointed his wand at his Nimbus 1500, and at his Invisibility Cloak as well, and reduced both to pocket-size replicas. He tucked them into his robes and turned to look at Remus with a sudden smile. An idea just hit him.

"Hey, why don't you ask her out too?" James asked.

Remus' eyebrows jumped and his pulse quickened. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you, prat," James answered teasingly. "Why don't you ask Regina to go with you next weekend? You know you want to. Besides, it might make Lily more comfortable, having another girl around." He spoke as though Lily had already said yes.

"I don't think—"

"How hard could it be?" James wondered. "Just approach her and tell her you'd love her company in Hogsmeade next weekend."

Sirius snorted. "Look who's talking. Mr. Smooth himself."

James flushed. "Yeah, well, this is not Lily and me we're talking about." He turned to Remus. "So what about it, huh?"

Remus just grimaced, and James realised his friend needed more encouragement. "She already knows, you know," he said casually.

Sirius sat up on the bed, and Peter slid to the floor, both of them staring open-mouthed. Remus was thunderstruck. "What does she know?" he asked abruptly. There was no way James could be talking about _that_, was there?

James held his hands up. "Hey, I didn't say anything," he said. "Last month, she saw the three of us hurrying with dinner and figured we wanted to see you in the hospital wing. You told her you were sick, remember? She wanted to come and visit you, but we told her you weren't there. And then she—" He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I know this is going to sound odd, but I saw her look up at the ceiling. She shivered when she saw the full moon, and when she looked at me afterwards, there was that look of comprehension on her face."

"Listen to yourself, James. You are not making any sense, jumping to unwarranted conclusions just because of a few faulty assumptions—"

James glared at Sirius. "I am sane enough, Padfoot. I know what I saw, and Regina is as easy as a book to read. She _knows_."

"She might have had her suspicions. That's all," Sirius argued. "She can't have cottoned on to that fact that easily. No one's that smart."

Remus was staring intently at the floor, and the three other Marauders watched him, waiting for him to speak. After several moments of silence, he finally looked up, his face drained and his blue eyes almost fearful.

"What did she say?" His voice was almost a whisper, but it was difficult to miss its tremor.

James met his friend's eyes levelly. "She didn't say anything, Moony. But I know she doesn't care that you're a werewolf."

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "You don't know that," he told James almost accusingly.

"You can ask her if you want," Peter piped in.

Sirius scowled at the blond, pudgy boy. "That would make a cheerful conversation. 'Hey, Regina, James told me you know I'm a werewolf. Is that true?' And then, just in case she wasn't really aware of that at all, what do you say? 'Keep it a secret?' What a load of dung. Of course, you could tell her James was joking—"

"I do know," James reassured Remus, cutting off Sirius' monologue. "Listen, mate, did you notice any difference in the way she had been treating you the week after that night? Did you see her trying to avoid you? Does she even act like she pities you?"

"No," Remus admitted weakly without even thinking.

"I thought so," James said. "You've always been such a busybody with me and Lily, telling me how to act and what to say. I'm merely returning the favour, trying to pound some sense into your stubborn skull." James smirked. "But let me ask you one thing first. Do you like her? Do you think you'd like to get to know her better?"

Remus fell silent once more. James's questions rang in his head along with memories of the moments he spent with her, arousing thoughts and emotions he prayed he would never encounter. What did it matter how he felt anyway? Nobody would ever like a bloody werewolf. His fellow Marauders were different, but then again, brotherly friendships were one thing; a romantic relationship was another. He just—he wasn't the kind of man who could count on attracting any woman, much less a lovely, smart one like _her_.

"Do you?" James repeated, more gently this time.

"Yes." It was a difficult confession to make.

Peter patted Remus on the shoulder comfortingly while Sirius sank back onto the bed, muttering, "Great. Now we have two sentimental, lovesick Marauders. Just what is the world coming to?"

James smiled. "Good," he approved briskly. "I just love being right. Ask her out then. Give her a chance to know who you really are. That was what you told me, wasn't it? If she has sense, like you said she does, then she'll say yes," he added smugly.

Remus smiled feebly. "We'll see," he said. He appreciated James's concern, but he needed time to sort things out alone. He would think over these without the influence of James's infinite optimism. "Now, Prongs, you better run along, or you'll be late."

"Right. I'll consider it a done deal then, Moony," James said before heading to the door.

"Good luck!" Peter called. "We'll be waiting up for you so you can tell us how everything went."

James winked. "I'd rather you not. We might take long." He gave one final wave and walked down the stairs to the common room where he spotted Hermione, curled up once more with a book. _Probably another one she borrowed from Remus._ He approached her.

"Hey," he greeted warmly.

Hermione looked up, and her face broke into a smile. "Hey," she repeated, her eyes taking in his presence. "Is it tonight?"

"Yes," James answered. "But I wanted to thank you again, for all the help—"

She waved the rest of his words away. "Oh, don't mention it. What are friends for?"

_Friends._ James's smile widened. "Let me thank you, nevertheless." He glanced at the clock. "Now I really should get going."

Was it just his imagination, or did she look slightly crestfallen at his last few words?

"Yeah, you'd better," Hermione agreed softly. "Good luck."

James thanked her one more time and made his way to the door. Hermione put her book away and watched him leave, a wistful expression on her face. She put her hand to her neck and fumbled for the hourglass, as though to remind herself how and why she was there. But she still didn't know what to wish for.

Hermione frowned, remembering once again her reservations about what to do with Peter. She had made up her mind not to tell the other Marauders about what he was going to do in the future, simply because he was a necessary evil. His disloyalty turned out to be for his friends' benefit in the end, but that was the _first time around_. She wasn't here then.

And now she was here. The book warned of Time-Turners being perilous, stating that people who wield them could drastically alter the future. If that was accurate, then that meant she wasn't exactly reliving history. Anything could still happen especially if she did not keep things the way they should be. In that case, she would be recreating the past and most probably be changing what should have been in store for all of them. But then it would be difficult not to. There were too many factors to remember, too many possibilities to consider; they were all making her head spin.

_Funny. I thought that once you go back into the past armed with knowledge of the future, things would be a lot easier to decide on._ It was becoming clear that what made time very difficult to deal with was that there were no pat answers, no definite consequences. It rendered time travel complex, and therefore almost useless.

_Or maybe not entirely._ Hermione chewed on her lower lip, thinking. After all, prudence was necessary only if she still wanted to go back to her time. _If I return to the future, I won't be with him._ Such a decision was her last resort, for she would admit defeat only if Lily decided she finally wanted to be with James. Since she still showed no signs of doing that just yet—_she is so stupid_—Hermione could wait until it was her turn. She wasn't in any hurry.

_Whatever happens, happens_.

* * *

"Glad you could join me," Lily greeted him sarcastically when James met her outside the Great Hall a little past eight.

_Like five minutes count as late_, James refrained from replying, wanting so much to start off right. "I'm sorry," he said instead, smiling softly.

Far from being appeased, however, Lily just looked more annoyed. Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. _Did Potter just apologise to me? Well, there's a first time for everything. _She looked at him and saw that he was watching her intently, as though gauging her reaction. Unnerved, she turned her back on him and walked away.

James caught up with her without saying anything else. Together, and yet without speaking to each other, they searched the classrooms, the dungeons, the hallways—and even the broom cupboards. He stifled a laugh as Lily told off two fourth-year Ravenclaws they caught snogging inside one of the closets.

"To your common room. _Now_," Lily ordered sternly. The fourth-years scrambled out of their hiding place and hurriedly walked away from them.

A small smile played across his lips while he watched Lily efficiently set about their tasks for the night. Lily had that unusual combination of beauty and brains that made her so attractive to him, but other boys his age just did not—could not—appreciate how simple and conservative she was. To them, she was no fun at all. James, on the other hand, admired her discipline and the constancy with which she always wanted to do what was right. Ultimately, these qualities were what convinced him Lily was the woman he wanted—and was going to—share the rest of his life with.

_But I __mustn't get too carried away yet._

He followed Lily as she marched up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, which was always last on their nightly itinerary. James had planned to do _it_ here, under the stars, while they were wrapped with the cool wind. He glanced up at the sky, noticed the storm clouds gathering and prayed it wouldn't rain just yet.

Lily lit her wand and glanced around several times to ensure that no students were hanging out after hours. Satisfied that there were none, she turned on her heels and silently headed back to the stairway.

Their time tonight was over.

It was now or never.

"Lily, wait!" James called out.

She stopped in her tracks and looked back at him in surprise. It was the first time he had spoken since he apologised for being late. "What is it?" she asked, almost curiously.

Encouraged when she did not snap or yell at him, he closed the distance between them until he was only a couple of feet away. James slid his hand into his pocket and groped for his wand. He took it out, returned his hand into his robes and pulled a very tiny object out.

It was the miniature bouquet of flowers. James pointed his wand at it, and it bloomed into the majestic floral arrangement it was earlier. He handed it clumsily to her.

"This is for you," he said, pleased when he saw Lily's green eyes widen. He reached once more into his pocket and retrieved the diminutive teddy bear and box of chocolates, restoring them to their normal sizes. "And this," he said, offering the teddy bear first. "And these too," he finished, giving her the box of chocolates. She took all of them, speechless.

Standing there with her arms wrapped around the gifts, Lily was so shocked, she could hardly even breathe. James was looking down adoringly at her, his hazel eyes glowing with intensity and… tenderness? Surely that wasn't right. Since when did Potter become this… this… Her brain wasn't functioning properly, it couldn't even supply her with the right word. That clearly signalled danger. So why wasn't she feeling any need to run as fast and as far as she could?

James continued staring at her, watching conflicting emotions run through her eyes. He knew he would break the spell that seemed to envelope them if he decided to speak, and so he waited.

Finally, Lily broke eye contact and glanced self-consciously at the goods in her arms. "I, uh, I—" She shook her head slightly. Her supply of oxygen must have been totally depleted, with her stuttering like this in front of him. "What are—what are these?" she managed to say.

James blinked. "Oh," he said. "Flowers, a white teddy bear, and a box of chocolates," he said in a rush, pointing to each item as he named it.

Lily made a sound that was between a laugh and a snort. "No, I meant—well—what are these for?"

James scratched his head in confusion. "For you," he answered stupidly.

His ridiculous answer annoyed her and somewhat helped her recover from the dreaminess that had overcome her earlier. _For me?__All of these are for me?__Just what in the name of Merlin is he trying to pull?_ She rolled her eyes. "You already said that. What I wanted to ask was why then are you giving me these?" she said warily.

James was jolted out of his bewilderment by the sharp change in Lily's voice. Now that the moment had finally arrived, he still didn't know how to say what he wanted. "I was wondering if—" _No, that's too hasty._ "Maybe you would like—" _That doesn't sound right, either._

He exhaled, restraining himself from taking Lily by the hand. He remembered how easily he had instructed Remus to ask Regina out. _It's amazing how straightforwardly a guy can ask a girl he doesn't really like, and how he bleeds for words to say when he's asking a girl he really likes,_ he reflected.

"Listen, Lily," James began earnestly. "I know I'm coming across like a fool but I—" He swallowed hard. _Here goes._ "I like you. I really like you. A lot."

"I wish you would give me a chance," James continued softly. "Go out with me this Valentine's day. I promise you won't regret it." His heart was pounding so fast. The words were out. He had been a dork, suffered being called a sap, done everything he was supposed to. The rest—their future, the one he insisted they would share—were in her hands now.

Any ordinary girl would have melted at his words, but Lily Evans was no ordinary girl. _Oh, no. Here we go again. And I thought he had finally learned his lesson._ Lily frowned. "Potter, I admire your persistence, but I already said no, didn't I? What made you think my answer was going to change?"

His eyebrows jumped. She couldn't be thinking of declining his invitation again. _She's just trying to rile you, like Remus said. Don't bite_. But he couldn't very well tell her that he expected her to say yes because it was his prize for behaving properly the past two weeks. That would make everything sound like fake, like a mere game.

"Well, because I—"

"What?" Lily interrupted. "Because you gave me these?" she asked, nodding towards the gifts she held. "Did you think pieces of flora, a bunch of cotton stuffed inside a cloth and brown gooey stuff were enough to improve your chances with me?" She had finally put her finger on what had been bothering her for the past fortnight. It didn't make sense that after ignoring her for a while, he was back on his knees again, begging her to go out with him—unless everything had been set carefully, like a stage for a play. "Or is it because you and your friends have been practicing your manners lately?"

"I don't know what you mean," James said uneasily. He didn't understand how things had taken a turn for the worse. Wasn't she warmly looking into his eyes only a few moments ago?

"I know you do," Lily whispered fiercely. "You and your pathetic little friends planned that I'm-so-mature act, didn't you, just to prove that you've changed, that you care about people aside from yourselves. I've got to admit, you had almost everyone fooled." She threw her head back and tossed her chin up defiantly. "Everyone except me, of course. Leopards don't change their spots overnight, Potter. I don't care how many weeks you keep running that show because for me, you're still the conceited, inconsiderate slob I despise."

Lily shoved the flowers, stuffed toy and chocolates towards James. "I don't need all these presents either. I can conjure them out of thin air in an instant—and I'm sure you can too." She did not anticipate the pain that flash through his eyes at the sarcasm in her words, but she had most likely imagined it. James Potter was immune to such anguish and would probably be laughing about it in his dormitory later.

"You've got it all wrong," James said quietly, pleadingly. "It wasn't an act."

Lily laughed scathingly. "Spare me your ludicrous excuses. I don't have patience for any of them." She turned on her heels and walked towards the stairs. Just before she took the first step down, however, she faced him one more time.

"I thought you were supposed to be smart, Potter. When are you going to give up on me? If I were you, I'd have given up on myself a long time ago."

James's face darkened; his patience had reached its limit. He clenched his jaw and looked straight at her. "If that's what pleases you," he said, his voice deadly calm, "then I will." His eyes burned into hers until she couldn't take any more, and she rushed down the stairs.

Once the sound of her footsteps receded, James turned to face the night once more. The stars twinkled brightly despite the clouds that had gathered, mocking his misfortune. He didn't think another rejection from her would be this painful, but maybe it was because he had spent so much time and effort preparing for what was supposed to be the most wonderful night of both their lives.

_Who am I kidding? She hates me._ It wasn't enough that she said no. She had to add just how much she despised him, had to rub in how many times he had failed and how pitiful he was to keep chasing her still. His pride could only take so much humiliation. Who did she think she was anyway? The severity of her words came back, and remembered pain sliced through him again. James threw the presents he was supposed to give to her on the floor and set them on fire, bizarrely finding comfort in the idea that his heart wasn't the only one being razed at the moment. The unspoken vow he had made a few days ago with himself came back to him. _No more._

The fire he had created flickered dangerously to being extinguished as he felt sparse raindrops caress his face and arms. He looked up at the dark sky and realised that it had started to drizzle, and that the rain would soon be falling heavily. James returned inside the castle, under his cloak, and made his way to the fourth floor, where another secret passage leading to Hogsmeade was located.

Outside, the cold torrent surged forth from heaven.

* * *

Hermione stared at the book on her lap without really seeing anything. It was half past nine already, and neither James nor Lily had returned from their rounds yet. Jealousy seared through her. _She probably said yes already_, Hermione thought morosely as she flicked idly through the pages. _I myself would have, seeing how he really wanted to make tonight special. And now they're probably confessing their love for each other, kissing madly…_ Hermione wanted to throw the book into the fire. _That's it. I'm going home._

The door to the common room suddenly opened. Lily marched in, her cheeks flushed. Hermione half-expected James to be behind her, but the redhead was alone.

Their eyes met.

"Have you seen Ja—Potter?" Lily demanded, strands of her hair clinging to her cheek.

_This is the first time she's talked to me, and already she's asking me about James,_ Hermione realised. "No," she responded evenly. "I thought you were with him?" Judging from Lily's scowl, things were not good.

Lily nervously sifted through her hair. "I was," she said. "But I—we—"

"Did something happen to him?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Lily shook her head guiltily. "No. Never mind. It doesn't matter." Without another word, she rushed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Hermione frowned. What did that mean? And where was James?

Descending footsteps from the other side of the room caught her attention, and she inclined her head towards the sound just as it stopped.

Remus was at the bottom of the stairs, looking at her. "Was that James?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it was just Lily."

Tacit words passed between them, and soon, Remus was sharing her frown. He walked towards her and sat on the couch opposite her. "That's not good, then."

"It's not," Hermione agreed. She didn't like where the conversation was going, so she returned her attention to the book.

There was silence. Remus played with his hands, glancing furtively at Hermione from time to time. Should he do it tonight? Despite James's reassuring words, he still could not muster enough bravado to invite her to Hogsmeade next weekend. But he knew that if he didn't, he was bound to regret it later on. He took a deep breath.

"Regina?" Remus asked, carefully watching her reaction.

Her wide-set brown eyes lifted from the text she was reading to look into his. She smiled faintly. "What is it, Remus?"

His ego bolstered, Remus decided right then and there that he would ask her. "I was wondering—no, thinking—if maybe you would like… I mean, just in case you'd like to…" He grimaced, berating himself silently for plunging ahead without being ready. _So much for teaching James on what to say each time. Hey, what was that he told me I should say?_ He racked his mind, trying to recall. _James, James. What was that again?_

Hermione was looking at him strangely. "Yes?" she prompted.

"Would you like to wait up for James?" The words were out of his mouth before he could even go over them again inside his head. _Oh, bugger._

Her eyes widened. _What is he on to?_

Remus, mistaking her reaction for irritation, hurriedly added, "I mean, if you're still going to read, that's all. Of course, you can go to bed right now, but just in case… Just in case you're going to be up for some time, I thought you could wait for him." He mentally slapped himself for blabbering like an idiot.

_The best defence is a strong offence._ Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she answered, trying to sound vehement. "Who is he anyway, that I should stay up late to wait for him? I am not his wife." _Nice choice of words, Granger,_ a voice jeered inside her head.

Remus was taken aback at her intense reaction. "I'm so—sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to annoy you."

_So maybe I went over the top._ Hermione sighed. "No, it wasn't your fault, Remus. I'm just tired. I think I better get some rest now. You should too." She stood up. "Goodnight."

Remus followed suit, dismayed at how things had gone and how abruptly they had ended. "Goodnight. I guess we'll just wait for James upstairs."

The two of them made their way to the stairs to their dormitories. Hermione, however, knew she could never close her eyes without knowing where James was and what had happened to him. Once upstairs, she merely grabbed the white blanket above her pillows and then silently padded her feet down the stairs. She reclaimed her place on the couch nearest the fireplace, crept under the sheets and opened the book once more.

Her eyelids began to droop after half an hour of reading, and soon she had drifted off to sleep.

"Hang on, I forgot the password—why the hell are you jerking off?"

Hermione sat up sleepily and checked the clock. It was already past one in the morning; she must have dozed off in the common room. As she tried to remember why she wasn't in bed in the first place, she wondered where the loud voice came from.

"—You certainly can't expect me to put off my sleep, waiting for you to come to your senses—"

"Just let me in! I'm Head Boy!" A powerful thud at the door followed those angry words.

"Dear boy," a woman's voice chided, "I do not care if you're the Headmaster himself. Unless you give me the password, I'm afraid I cannot allow you inside."

Wide awake now, Hermione tossed her blanket aside and rushed to the portrait hole, pushing the door open.

As she climbed out, the Fat Lady greeted triumphantly, "Ah, good thing you're here, my dear. This rogue's trying to force entry into the Gryffindor chambers—"

"Come off it, he's Head Boy," Hermione told her testily, cutting her short. She turned to look at James and gasped, clamping a hand to her mouth in shock.

"You see? He does not even look like a Head Boy," the Fat Lady commented nastily. "What a disgrace."

The Fat Lady was right this time. James was drenched, his robes dripping and streaked with mud. His eyes were bloodshot and dazed, and he smelled distinctly of Firewhiskey and Merlin knew what else. He was holding his Nimbus in his right hand, which either indicated that he went flying despite the stormy weather or that he was using it to support him, as he was simply too woozy to stand on his own—or both. He was also holding his left arm in a strange angle, and Hermione feared the joint in his elbow had been dislocated.

He was swaying on the spot, looking like he was ready to collapse. Hermione took his broomstick from him and put his right arm around her shoulder to help him up. She started for the open portrait hole, but the Fat Lady had swung it closed again.

"Password?" she asked with a yawn.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Golden Lily," she snapped. James had changed the password, in anticipation of tonight, only a couple of days ago.

The Fat Lady yawned once more and slid open to admit them. Hermione struggled with James's weight as she dragged him to a long, empty couch. He flopped down helplessly on it while Hermione slowly placed his Nimbus on the floor and took her seat on the armchair she previously occupied. She watched him and wondered what to do next while he stared despairingly into the fire.

"You're drunk," Hermione whispered delicately. It was the worst she had seen him yet.

James laughed bitterly. "That's right. Wasted," he agreed drunkenly, stretching his legs out. "And why shouldn't I be?" He pressed on without waiting for an answer. "I'm just not good enough for her; I'm also despicable enough for her to hate me."

_So that was what happened._ Hermione swallowed, her heart aching for him. She knew his pain well enough to share it with him. She had hoped, in the deepest corners of her heart, that he would fail again tonight. And then maybe—just maybe—he would finally give up on Lily. What she had not counted on was him being so devastated, so crushed, that he would turn to extreme measures to forget. It was almost unbelievable how Lily had turned him—confident, self-assured James Potter—into a total wreck. And how was she supposed to comfort him when she felt guilty for wanting this herself?

_Even some medicines are necessarily painful __to bring about a full recovery,_ Hermione justified to herself."Listen, James, tomorrow—"

"No," he said fiercely, his anger unmistakable even through his slurred voice. "It's over. She's hurt me for the last time. That's for sure." He glanced irritably at her. "Why are you forcing me to talk about her anyway? Bloody hell, I drowned myself in Firewhiskey to forget, not to remember."

There was silence for a few moments, and then Hermione remembered that James was soaking wet from the rain. "Let me help you clean up," she said softly. He merely looked at her, his eyes devoid of light. She had never seen him like that; it was almost frightening. She stood up and waved her wand twice wordlessly over him, drying his clothes first and then scouring off the mud. Just as she had finished, however, James doubled over himself and coughed violently. He clutched his middle as he retched onto the Gryffindor carpet.

Hermione stood still in shock for a moment and sighed wearily. She pointed her wand at the carpet and muttered another Cleansing Charm. One spell wasn't able to complete the job, however, probably because the mess stuck to the fibres of the rug. She repeated it another three times until even the smell had disappeared, flicked her wand and conjured a cup of strong, black coffee.

"Here. Drink this; it'll help," she said, looking down at James to hand him the cup, but saw that he had already fallen asleep. Hermione smiled sadly and banished the cup with another flick of her wand. She sat down next to him, took off his glasses and set them on a nearby table. She used that stick of vine wood yet again to produce, out of thin air, a basin of water and a small towel this time. She soaked the cloth in the warm water and twisted it dry. Cupping James's right cheek in her left hand, she gently wiped his face with her other hand.

_I love him._

James murmured something she did not catch.

"James," she whispered, tenderly stroking his jaw line.

"Lily," he muttered with a sense of desperation, scrunching up his face as though in pain.

Her eyes filled with tears. Even in his state of intoxicated sleep, it was her he was thinking about.

She stood up from the couch, pushed his upper body to down to help him recline and lifted his legs up from the floor so that he could sleep more comfortably. She adjusted the position of his left arm, which was indeed damaged, to where he would not accidentally lie on it. Hermione retrieved her blanket afterwards and covered him with the warm sheet, looking devotedly at him. _He needs it more than me_. Besides, her own couch was nearer the fire.

Sighing unhappily, Hermione curled up in a smaller armchair, which was her makeshift bed, and tried to fall asleep.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Right, I know that first part about the map was totally… anti-climactic. LOL. Even so, it will be quite significant later on, and the map will someday be used in the proper time and place. Oh, and I used the "passage that had caved in" as a secret way to Hogsmeade (see _Prisoner of Azkaban_) because I assumed that route was still working during the Marauders' time. ;) Thanks to my beta, Bobbey, who double-checked the Lexicon and calculated the model of the Nimbus to be 1500 instead of 1800. :) 


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author Notes: **A lot of people had been asking me whether James was a Seeker or a Chaser. According to Jo, he was a Chaser, but since I already started with him being a Seeker, I would have him that way for the rest of the story. :)

**Chapter Summary: **It took forever, but now it's time for Hermione to take her fair share of chances without knowing all the answers, and for James to finally start letting go.

* * *

**Chapter 13: It's My Turn**

_I was lost  
I was blind  
Till I found you.  
Couldn't see  
Couldn't find  
Someone new.  
You were my friend  
Dear friend  
Sometimes I wonder  
Could the one to save me  
Possibly be you?_

_--- Maury Yeston (Till I Loved You)_

James turned in his sleep and accidentally hit the wooden frame of the couch he was lying on with his left, injured arm. "Ow," he grumbled. He righted himself, groggily groped around for his glasses and saw them on top of the nearest table. He grabbed them and put them on. Looking around, he tried to remember why he had spent the night in the common room instead of in his dormitory.

Memories came back in a rush—and that, combined with the queasiness his hangover brought him, pounded his head mercilessly. James groaned and clutched at his temples, trying to ease his headache. _So it's true, what they say about booze just worsening whatever problem you have._ All the liquor he had downed the previous night had indeed made him forget. But the catch with such temporary relief was that the pain drove home stronger with each remembrance, which was also clearer each time.

He was still feeling nauseous, so he remained seated and glanced at the clock first. Six o'clock. James slapped his hand to his forehead in irritation. He had had only four hours of sleep—troubled, uneasy sleep. Weren't hangovers supposed to help you sink deep into a stupor? He cursed the Firewhiskey inside his mind and whipped the blanket over him off to his side.

He did a double take and eyed the warm, fuzzy cloth suspiciously. _Where did the blanket come from?_

He looked around the Gryffindor common room and, for the first time, saw Hermione's huddled form on the small armchair directly perpendicular to his. _What is she doing here?_ Recollections of what happened after he had returned to Hogwarts, sopping wet and drunk, were still hazy. He could only vaguely recall her helping him against the Fat Lady, but could not remember anything else after that.

James sighed and stood up, his legs still shaky. He reached for the white blanket with his left arm and winced at the cracking sound that accompanied another jolt of pain. His elbow had been dislocated by last night's fall, but that could easily be remedied.

_My wand. Where's my wand? _Automatically, he reached into his robes with his right hand and felt the hard stick inside. He took it out, pointed it at his left arm, and quickly muttered the Healing Spell. The uncomfortable twinge he had been bearing vanished, which assured James his mind was now at least in some control of his faculties.

He walked towards Hermione, blanket in hand, taking note of his Nimbus on the floor as he stepped over it. The fire, which he assumed had kept her warm through the night, had already died out. As a result, she was trembling slightly from the chill that accompanied the dawn. The sight of a sleeping woman, of the one who had helped him, struck something sentimental inside. Why she was down here with him when she could have returned to her room, why she tucked him in her own blanket and allowed herself to be cold and why she had chosen the cramped armchair and left him the considerably more comfortable couch were beyond his comprehension, but her thoughtful gestures touched his heart. Did she care this much about everyone else? Thinking back on how she had treated everybody so far—even Peter, who could be annoying at times—she probably did.

James smiled gently as he looked down at her and covered her with the blanket. He slid one arm under her back, supported the rear of her knees with another and lifted her from the armchair. He would have carried her back to her dormitory if he could. Instead, he carried her to the couch he had slept on and slowly set her down. He thought he heard her breathe a sigh of relief as she automatically stretched her body, turned on one side and continued to sleep. James readjusted the sheets and saw that she was still wearing the robes she had on before he left for his security rounds. He reached out and tenderly pushed the stray walnut locks of her hair behind one ear. They both had had a rough night.

With his touch, Hermione stirred in her sleep. A sweet air tinged with vanilla tempted his senses, and James inhaled deeply, savouring it. Right after he had done so, however, he jerked backwards from her and abruptly straightened himself up. He really was still crocked.

James picked up his Nimbus from the floor, walked to the stairs and climbed to the boys' dormitory, careful not to wake her. He noiselessly entered the room he shared with the other Marauders, all of whom he hoped were still sound asleep. As he passed Remus' bed, which was beside his, he caught sight of himself in a mirror.

_Bloody hell._

His image stunned him. He looked awful, with the dark circles shadowing his bloodshot eyes and the tangled mass of hair crowning his head. Even his cheeks appeared to be sunken, and his mouth was set in a grim, serious line. Nobody would recognise him as James Potter—but he doubted anybody knew who he really was anyway. _You're a mess, _he scolded himself. What kind of a man allowed himself to be ruined by just a woman? That she happened to be Lily Evans was no excuse. _I need to get a grip on myself._

He decided he would start with a much-needed, hopefully refreshing shower. He tossed the broom on his bed—which was unmade, thanks to Sirius—and opened the trunk beside it. He grabbed his towel and clothes and headed for the bathroom. The cold water from the shower that hammered his body effectively woke him up and cleared his mind, so that he almost felt like his old self again when he stepped out, fully dressed.

James plonked down on his bed afterwards and stared up at the ceiling, his arms crossed behind his head. The dull patterns above forced away all the angry and miserable thoughts he kept bottled inside. The nothingness was certainly a welcome break.

"Prongs? Is that you?"

James started, his moment of solitude interrupted. Remus' curtains were parted and his sleepy face was peering through the gap.

"Yeah, it's just me. Go back to sleep," James said.

Remus shook his head and sat up, pushing the drapes farther from each other. He swung his legs on the side of the bed that was facing James. "I'm always an early riser," he said, rubbing his eyes. "But you… Why are you up so early?"

James propped himself up on his own bed and sighed. He wanted to tell Remus to leave him alone, but knew his friend was merely asking a question. It wouldn't be right to take out all his frustrations on him. "I couldn't sleep."

"What time did you get back last night?" Remus asked. "I was awake until three this morning, yet I didn't hear you enter."

"I didn't sleep here," James answered blandly. Sooner or later, Remus was going to bring Lily into the conversation. "I was practically sloshing with alcohol when I returned. I slept on a couch in the common room instead." He didn't mention the finer details; Remus could work them out for himself. Besides, he did not want to dwell on the previous night's events any longer than necessary when, in the first place, he didn't even really know exactly what happened. _I wish Sirius and Peter were awake right now, so I wouldn't have to tell them the same thing all over again._

Remus' eyes widened both in shock and understanding. He was silent for a few more moments, wondering what to say next, and soon settled on, "That bad, huh?"

James snorted and didn't reply.

Fortunately, Remus was sensitive enough to take it as a sign that he should stop asking. James would enlighten them in time, but not today. The wounds were too fresh.

Remus started dwelling on his own disastrous night and cringed inwardly at how close he had come, but failed, to asking Regina out. He glanced back at James, who had resumed staring blankly at the ceiling. He sighed. _I'll just tell him next time. He has his own demons to battle._ He lay back down on his bed and imitated what James was doing.

They stayed that way for a little over an hour until it was time for breakfast. James jumped up and left around half past seven without saying another word. Remus, meanwhile, took it upon himself to wake Peter and Sirius. Peter stirred with a start and immediately sat up in bed, wild-eyed, while Sirius just grumbled and slid back under the covers. Remus grinned at their behaviour. Some things just never changed.

Peter immediately noticed James's empty bed. "Where's Prongs? I wasn't able to wait up for him last night. What time did he come in?"

Remus' grin faded. He decided to answer only Peter's first question. "Already downstairs for breakfast."

"What happened last night?" Peter insisted.

A sad smile twisted Remus' lips. "He wouldn't tell me. But Lily said no again, obviously." A thoughtful expression came over his face. "I know this has happened countless times before, but this time seems different. Final, almost. She must have said something that really hurt James."

Peter frowned. "I told you she was crazy. So what time did he return?" he repeated.

"I don't know. I was up till three, but I didn't see him either," Remus replied. "He told me he slept downstairs." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "He said he was drunk too, and that was what troubled me the most."

Upon hearing this, Sirius rolled in bed and pulled his comforter down to face them. "James doesn't drink," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I know. But he did last night. Drowned himself, from the looks of it," Remus countered softly.

There was a hush as each one contemplated on what had just been said.

"Ordinarily, I would have let James tell you himself," Remus continued, breaking the silence. "But I don't think he's welcome to questions about last night, and since I know how nosy the two of you are," he said wryly, "I thought I'd better warn you beforehand."

"How thoughtful," Sirius said sarcastically. "What would we ever do without you to care for us and look over our every need?"

Peter grinned, and even Remus managed a smile. "You'd all be in a very pitiful state indeed," he replied dryly.

* * *

It was almost half past eight when the three of them, dressed in their school robes, entered the Great Hall. They spotted James easily, sitting at their usual spot and eating alone.

"Remember what I told you," Remus whispered as they walked towards him.

Peter nodded vigorously, ever anxious to please, while Sirius rolled his eyes. Once they reached James, Remus took his place beside him, and the other two sat opposite them. The bespectacled Marauder did not even look up from his plate as his friends joined him.

"Morning, mate," Sirius greeted, his voice unnaturally high with fake cheerfulness.

"Morning," James mumbled, glancing briefly up at him. He continued picking his food. He just didn't feel like talking to any of them right now. He looked warily at his friends, but none of them seemed to be getting ready to pelt him with questions. Remus must have told them to keep their mouths shut, and James was grateful for that more reserved form of sympathy.

He glanced down the Gryffindor table, looking once more for Regina. She wasn't there yet. James assumed she had gone back up to her dormitory and had fallen asleep again because she wasn't on the couch anymore when he went down for breakfast. He had hoped to catch her first thing in the morning so he could talk to her. Strangely enough, she was the only person he wanted to be with right now. He glanced around one more time, just in case he missed her, but she was nowhere to be seen. He returned his attention to his plate, unmindful of the lighthearted banter going on around him.

_She's going to be late for class_, James thought as he saw the clock strike quarter to nine. His eyes strayed once more to the ornate, open doors of the Great Hall in time to see her enter. For some reason he couldn't fathom, his heart started beating faster. He was nervous about seeing her again—but of course, that was understandable. Especially after last night.

His hazel eyes followed her as she sat down, far from the other students, and quietly took her breakfast. He willed her to meet his eyes, but she kept her own lowered as though resolutely refusing to even glance in their direction. He watched her hastily finish her meagre meal, consisting of a piece of toast and a glass of juice, stand up and start making her way to the door.

James suddenly stood up, almost knocking over Remus' glass.

His three friends looked at him with mingled surprise and concern. "What's the matter, Prongs?" Sirius asked.

He did not waste time answering his best friend. Instead, James climbed over the bench, grabbed his bag and hurriedly strode out the Great Hall. When Hermione had turned left and vanished from his sight, he broke into a run.

"Regina! Wait up!" he called, just as Hermione took her first step up the stairs.

Hermione looked back, her heart skipping a beat when she saw him. She stood rooted to the spot as he approached, trying to keep her features expressionless. He was so tall that, when he caught up with her, she still had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye, even though she was already one stair step higher than him.

He was smiling; she certainly did not anticipate that, not after last night. She returned it, nonetheless, for it was difficult not to. "What is it?"

James did not respond. He simply stepped up the first rung and motioned for her to continue up the stairs with him.

They were completely silent for the next few moments, but Hermione had never been good at keeping words to herself. "How are you?" she asked nonchalantly, breaking the ice without really looking at him.

"Better now," James replied warmly. He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated everything she did last night, but he couldn't find the right words to use. How could he say he was sorry for having caused her so much trouble, but that he had never felt more cared for, without sounding like a dolt?

She glanced at him, and their eyes met. James saw that she also had dark circles under her eyes, which contrasted with the amused smile on her face. "I'm glad," she said. "Firewhiskey did its job, then."

James coloured. He had never drunk any type of liquor until last night and was actually amazed he had managed to hold down several shots. "No, it screwed matters up even more," he said. "I was lucky you were there to—"

"Clean up your mess?" Hermione interrupted, smirking now. "Literally and figuratively, of course."

He started, almost stumbling over a step. "Wh—what?" he stuttered. "You mean I… threw up?"

Hermione nodded indifferently. "On the Gryffindor carpet." She looked more closely at him. "Don't you remember?"

James frowned. Now that she mentioned it, he could vaguely recall something like that. He cringed. "I must have looked like an embarrassing piece of shit."

Her eyes widened, surprised by his sudden profanity. Then her features softened. "All of us look like that sometimes. Don't be too hard on yourself."

They stopped in front of the door to their Transfiguration classroom. James wanted to ask her what else happened the night before, but decided he had other more important words she should hear.

"I'm sorry for being such a nuisance last night," he began, his low voice lending intimacy to their conversation. "Come to think of it, I've always been, and you've always been around to help me."

Hermione smiled shyly, the warmth in his eyes drawing her in. "It wasn't any trouble at all, James," she said. "Anybody would have done the same. I was just the one around at that time." She had made sure she would be.

_Thank Merlin for that,_ James thought. "I'd like to make things up to you anyway." He opened the door for her and allowed her to enter first. They were two of the few early students in the room, which included some Ravenclaws.

"That wasn't necessary. I could have done that for myself," Hermione said, referring to James's chivalry in opening the door. "You shouldn't even have walked me to class."

"That, Regina, is the way a man should treat a lady," James informed her, his manner now relaxed. "Before you let it all go to your head, I guess I should let you know I was walking myself to class as well," he added, a trace of a smirk on his face.

Hermione merely smiled as she sat in her usual seat. That James was back to messing around meant that he had already somewhat recovered from last night. She didn't mind—oh no, not at all—that he was showing her glimpses of his arrogance once more. In fact, if truth be told, she liked it. _A lot._

"You don't have to sit with me either," Hermione said as James slid into the empty chair beside her. "I can be very boring company."

James grinned, setting his bag on his desk and playing with his hair. "Don't worry; I'm fun enough for both of us. It's never a dull moment with me."

They passed the rest of the time talking—or rather, in Hermione's case, listening. James did not seem to run out of stories to tell, be it about Quidditch, Marauder pranks, or Hogwarts in general. Hermione could sense he was trying to avoid talking about Lily, but she was fine with that. They both could do without her.

She must look like a fool, unable to fight the giddy smile on her face as she listened to him. It was the first real conversation she had had with James, and Hermione wished she could save these moments with him. Even if she couldn't really be with him later on, she would be able to look back and smile, grateful for a few pleasant memories.

It was exactly nine o'clock when Lily, Alice, Peter, Remus, Sirius, and the majority of their classmates entered the classroom. Alice immediately sat beside Frank Longbottom, while Sirius took his usual place, which happened to be behind Hermione. He usually sat with James, whom he poked in the back with the end of his quill.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be there," Sirius said. Remus was the one who usually sat beside Hermione, and he was standing over James, waiting for him to vacate the seat.

"Today I am," James informed Sirius, turning around to face him. "Find other seats," he told Peter and Remus.

Peter quickly took the chair beside Sirius so that Remus was left to occupy one beside Lily. He gave James a concerned look, but James simply shrugged. He just didn't care anymore. He promised himself he _wouldn't_ care. He'd had enough.

Professor McGonagall arrived ten minutes later, which was a rarity for her. After a quick greeting, she launched straight into the continuation of yesterday's lesson and kept at it for half an hour. Sirius was already asleep on his desk, with Peter staring fearfully at him, wondering if he should wake him. James's head was bobbing up and down, also dangerously close to dropping completely to his table. Remus and Lily, meanwhile, were both wide awake and conscientiously taking down notes. Hermione was casually leaning back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. She had already mastered this lesson back during her own time at Hogwarts. She looked around her and stifled a giggle; why was Professor McGonagall being so lenient with James and Sirius?

"And now we move on to perhaps the most difficult part of Transfiguration—the transformation of man into a specific animal at will."

James and Sirius started and sat up straighter in their seats.

"I'm very pleased to see this topic has caught your interest, Mr. Black and Mr. Potter, at least enough for both of you to stay awake in my class for several minutes," Professor McGonagall admonished sternly. The twinkle in her eyes, however, slightly ruined the effect.

The two most brilliant students in Hogwarts simply grinned, knowing fully well they weren't really being reprimanded.

"Witches and wizards who can transform into any animal at will are called Animagi," the Transfiguration professor continued. "It is most difficult, and the Ministry keeps strict tabs on people who are attempting to do it."

James smiled knowingly, catching Remus' eye across the room. Knowing Sirius, he was also wearing the same smug look on his face at that moment.

Professor McGonagall droned on about the only seven Animagi in the past century, causing the Marauders' grins to widen in response. On and on she went until Sirius was snoozing off again. Extremely bored, James took out his wand and began twirling it mindlessly. After a while, he reached into his bag and pulled out his quill, but with no intention of using it to write.

He pointed his wand at it and muttered a string of words under his breath. His quill was instantly transformed into a miniature doll of a teenage boy with a pale, sallow face, a hooked nose, and slimy hair. Severus Snape.

James broke into a big grin, wishing Sirius could see what he was doing now. He flicked his wand wordlessly, and after a split second, the toy Severus was hanging upside down with his knickers showing. He prodded the figure with his wand and it danced in circles, still suspended the wrong way up.

He heard a giggle beside him, and saw that it came from the most unlikely source. "Why are you laughing?" James asked Hermione.

"I find that funny," she answered, still giggling. She nodded her head towards the doll.

James looked at her doubtfully, trying to decide whether or not she meant what she said. "Really."

"Yes, certainly. Why, is it supposed to be otherwise?" she asked. Hermione pointed her own wand at the miniature Snape's hair and silently cast _Scourgify_. Bubbles clouded its head, and James chuckled appreciatively. "He really needed that wash, don't you think?"

"You don't like him?" James asked, flicking his wand and dressing Snape anew in a lacy, pink dress.

Hermione choked back another laugh as she thought about the times Professor Snape had unfairly taken points off Gryffindor and had bullied Harry and Neville. "Anyone who does must be mental," she decided. She aimed her wand at Snape's nose and enlarged it even more. "There. Now that's more realistic," she told him.

James snickered loudly, finally catching Professor McGonagall's attention.

She stopped in midsentence and glared at him, her beady eyes on his desk. At the sight of the miniature Snape, her lips twitched as though to refrain from smiling, and she said, "That's enough, Mr. Potter." Her attention shifted to the girl sitting beside him. _Ah, the new girl._ Of all the people she had to be friends with, it had to be him—the best troublemaker in school. "Miss Weisz, enough as well."

Hermione blushed. Rarely was she chided like that. "Sorry, Professor," she muttered.

"What was I saying about Animagi, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked, banishing Snape with a wave of her wand.

James was horrified. "Professor, that was an expensive quill!"

"You should have thought of that before Transfiguring it into something else," Professor McGonagall replied, the mischievous gleam in her eyes hardly discernible. She knew just how to deal with the Marauders. "Now answer my question."

The best Transfiguration student in their year merely rolled his eyes. "While not everyone can be Animagi, there is a way to determine if somebody does have some chance of becoming one," he said, repeating his professor's words in a bored voice. "All he has to do is try pointing his wand at himself while imagining the sort of animal he would most likely become. A bluish-silver whoosh coming out of the wand would be somewhat encouraging, but not definitive. In the absence of such a sign, it could be that the wizard was thinking of an animal that does not suit him, or that he was lacking in concentration."

"And do you think you have the potential to become an Animagus?" Professor McGonagall asked, surveying him intently. If anyone in class could be one, it would be him—or maybe Sirius Black.

"I don't think so, Professor," James answered guardedly. "I lack enough willpower and discipline to focus my mind and all my energy into transforming into an animal."

Sirius, now fully awake, snorted.

"Why don't we try, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall insisted. "You might be in for a pleasant surprise."

James merely shrugged and pointed his wand at himself. Deliberately allowing his mind to wander and yet maintaining a look of fierce concentration on his face, he waited for that spurt of light to shoot out of his wand. As he expected, there was none. He grinned at his professor. "I guess I'm not fit to be a bug," he said impishly.

Professor McGonagall's nose flared up in disapproval. "You should have had enough sense not to think of a bug in the first place. It does not suit your personality; I'm guessing you would be a horse or a stag." She shook her head. "Never mind, never mind. Mr. Black? Why don't you try it?"

The class turned to look at Sirius, who sat up straighter. Catching James's eye, he aimed his wand at himself and also pretended to focus on transforming into an animal. He likewise failed, however, causing the professor to sigh in disappointment.

"Never mind then," she conceded. She glanced at Remus, whom she would normally have asked to try next, had she not been aware of his condition. Remus, who recognised the look, wondered sardonically if transforming into an animal at will was less painful than being required to do so every month.

Peter was practically jumping up and down in his seat, trying to get Professor McGonagall's attention. He wanted a crack at trying to show the class if he could be an Animagus, particularly because he could. Why were his two friends suddenly unable to do it?

Sirius rolled his eyes and kicked him hard under their table. "Idiot," he whispered menacingly. "How thick can you get? Don't you know how to keep a secret? Nobody else must find out!"

Peter blinked. _Right._ He had forgotten that. He stilled in his seat, feeling entirely foolish. "Sorry, mate. Won't happen again."

"It better not," Sirius snarled under his breath. _Stupid Peter. He'll be the death of us someday._

* * *

When the bell rang for lunch, the majority of the class hurried away to the Great Hall. Lily, in particular, practically dragged Alice out of the room. The Marauders and Hermione were the last ones to leave.

"Eat lunch with us," James casually told Hermione. The two of them were walking ahead of his three other friends, all of whom he felt were muttering about the surprising change in his treatment of her.

Hermione's eyes widened warily. She had this distinct feeling that he was being extraordinarily nice to her because he still felt guilty about last night. "Really, James. You don't have to do this to make up for—"

"You said we were friends, and I think you've proven that already. It's about time I do that too. My turn," James said, a faint smile on his face.

His words stunned her, but Hermione smiled slightly and nodded slowly in affirmation. It wasn't as if she didn't like what was happening anyway. Her hesitations simply came from her astonishment that so much could change over the course of a day. Besides, the change in James's temperament was so sudden, she wasn't sure if she should trust it at all.

"Why is it," Sirius told her a few minutes later, "that when Remus asks you to join us, you decline, but when it's James who does, you agree at once?"

Hermione cheeks turned pink, but she replied evenly, "Well, I thought it would be better if there were at least two of you who could tolerate my company."

The expression on Sirius' face told her he wasn't buying that. "Whatever," he said uninterestedly. "James has always been slick with the girls, except with the one he wants."

James's features hardened at the reminder of Lily. "She doesn't deserve me," he said tightly.

"Of course she doesn't," Sirius agreed, although it was difficult to tell whether he meant it in a good way. "Say, Prongs, now that Evans is out of the picture—it means I can have my way with Snivellus, yes?"

Remus smiled. "I saw what you did a while ago, James. That was excellent work with Transfiguration." At Sirius and Peter's baffled looks, he filled them in on the miniature Snape their friend had created.

Peter hooted with laughter. "I wish I could've seen that! Reminds me of what we did to him in fifth year…"

"Yes, Padfoot, Snivellus is all yours," James said. "I know how much torture the last two weeks have been to you."

Sirius slapped him on the back jovially. "That's our Head Boy," he crowed.

Hermione was the only one frowning in disapproval. "So you're going back to your old tricks just because Lily didn't say yes?"

"Well, that was the whole point of the plan, wasn't it?" Sirius asked. "Now that it's over and done with, we can resume the roles of true Marauders. Goodness knows we need more laughs around here."

She refused to argue with Sirius, knowing it would get her nowhere. Instead, she turned to James, who looked deep in thought, and waited patiently for him to say his piece.

"You don't know Snape, Regina," James finally said convincingly, albeit quite uncomfortably. "He's always quiet to make himself appear as the one being bullied, but in reality, he gives as good as he gets. And he more often than not attacks when his enemy's back is turned, just like any coward would."

"Does that justify hexing him whenever you feel like it?" Hermione countered.

"It's either him or us," Peter piped in. "Snape hates James beyond reason—jealous, maybe, of his talent and popularity."

"You forgot to mention his handsome looks," Remus said jokingly, making Hermione smile.

"Besides, I can't very well avenge James on Evans," Sirius said. "Poor Snivellus; he's going to taste all the brunt." Hermione opened her mouth to ask what Severus had to do with Lily, but he held up a hand to stop her. "It doesn't matter what you say. I'm going to do it later this afternoon."

Peter's ears perked up. "In Potions?"

"Hitting two birds with one stone," Sirius confirmed in a mocking, mournful tone.

Hermione remained quiet, wondering what it would be like to see the legendary Marauders in action.

James squeezed her hand comfortingly. "You don't have to worry. It'll be fun, whether or not Sirius gets caught." She smiled automatically in response, not at his words, but at the warmth of the hand covering hers. Oh, it felt good. She could definitely get used to that feeling.

They trudged their way to the dungeons at one in the afternoon. James set his cauldron on the table Hermione and Remus usually shared. The brunette Ravenclaw Sirius had been eyeing joined him and Peter in another table, while Severus and Lily occupied another. The door to the Potions professor's quarters opened, and a short, rotund man with a walrus moustache entered the room.

"Okay, settle down, settle down," Professor Slughorn called out amid the vapours and chatter that filled the air. He waited until all his students had settled down before continuing, "As part of your review for your N.E.W.T.s, we will once again tackle some of the potions you brewed in sixth year. We start today with the Draught of Living Death, which I expect you to complete perfectly. If we finish early, we might have another crack at the _Euphoria_. Now off you go!"

The room was suddenly filled with sounds of scraping chairs, clunking balances and hushed murmurs as everyone set about to work. Hermione, who did not have any of the potion ingredients she needed, had to borrow from the professor's cupboard. After dropping his sliced valerian roots into the cauldron, James sat back in his chair and eyed the sopophorous bean helplessly, wondering what to do with it. It had always been difficult to cut up. He glanced at Remus and saw that he was also having the same problem. Hermione, on the other hand, remembered how she had seen Harry easily release the bean's juice. James watched with amazement as she crushed the flat side of the legume with a silver knife she borrowed from Remus. A larger volume of the extract than he would have thought possible spilled into her cauldron, turning her potion into a lighter shade of lilac.

"How did you learn that?" James asked, awestruck.

Hermione started as though she had not realised he was watching her. "Oh, my old professor taught me that," she said. She paused as she recalled what to do next. James opened his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ and handed it to her, but she shook her head. "Thanks, but I've got it all here," she said, tapping her temple with her index finger. This time, even Remus gave up on his potion and paid her attention. She stirred her cauldron counterclockwise seven times and then once clockwise.

"I think you made a mistake," Remus observed quietly, who also seemed to have memorised the book by heart.

The corners of her lips turned up, but she did not look at him. Immediately, the potion turned palest pink. "No, I did not," she said. "See?"

James let out a low, appreciative whistle. "So that's why we've never got it right," he said. "Libatius Borage screwed things up for us. But then why did Snivellus perfect it the first time around?" He moved towards her to peer more closely into her cauldron, and Hermione was assaulted by several pleasant sensations all at the same time: the warmth of his skin brushing against her arm, the scent of something spicy, soapy and loamy, something that was the man himself… He was so near, she could see the fine stubble on his chin, and it brought back memories of that night in his office.

James suddenly turned and looked straight into her eyes, his own glowing with admiration. "You're really something, did you know?"

Hermione blushed, unable to say anything.

Remus instinctively stepped back and observed them from a distance while half-heartedly continuing with his potion. What was going on between them? They had been surprisingly comfortable with each other since that morning, and he couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with last night. In any case, Regina did not seem to be shying away from James's attention. Remus felt his stomach clench at that last thought.

BOOM!

A loud explosion erupted from the other side of the room, causing some of the students to shriek and crouch for cover. Hermione and Remus ducked, while James looked warily around at Sirius, who seemed unperturbed by the disruption. He was almost sure his friend had thrown an Exploding Snap right into Snape's cauldron. _It wasn't an innovative prank at all._

"That's enough! Don't panic!" Professor Slughorn shouted over the ruckus. He hurried over to Lily and Severus' table and inspected the contents of the latter's cauldron. He dipped his hand inside and pulled out the burnt remains of a firecracker. A hush fell over the class. His eyes fell on Sirius and then flitted to James, both of whom looked nonchalant. "Next time anyone plays a joke they think is funny, I hope they stop to think and remember that sometimes jokes can be lethal." His voice was rigid. Professor Slughorn rarely got angry, and his students saw that this was probably the closest he would get.

Sirius merely shrugged. Despite being blasted off the family tapestry, he was still a Black. He knew that Old Sluggy would not dare cross him.

True enough, Professor Slughorn did not say anything more about the incident. He gave a perfect score to both Severus and Lily, whose potion had also been destroyed in the process, with the reason that he was confident their brews had been excellent anyway. Despite the professor's blatant favouritism, Lily was glaring menacingly at the Marauders.

Professor Slughorn examined the rest of the cauldrons, stopping once in a while to check the potion's consistency or to sniff at it. He smiled ruefully at the contents of Sirius' cauldron; the boy was exceedingly brilliant in all his other classes, but he definitely didn't have that intuitive talent for Potions. He moved on to Peter, already knowing what to expect. He was not thoroughly disappointed, however, after seeing the dark violet contents of his cauldron. At least the boy had progressed.

He looked over James's cauldron next and was shocked to see that it had only the cut valerian roots in it. "Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of this?" he inquired sharply.

James had the dignity to look slightly abashed. "I'm sorry, Professor. But I saw Regina concocting the potion so gracefully—it was like watching a Potions ballet—that I could not help but watch, and when I came back to my senses, it was already time."

Hermione's eyebrows jumped, astonished and embarrassed at his eloquent choice of words.

"I'll have no choice but to mark a zero for you today, Mr. Potter," Professor Slughorn said, almost apologetically. He shifted his attention to Hermione. "Well, let me see what you've got for me."

Hermione stepped back from her cauldron to allow the Professor a look at it. His eyes lit up with satisfaction at her work. "Very good, Miss Weisz. Perfect marks as well."

James met her eyes once more and gave her a big smile. Lily wasn't the only one with a dab hand at Potions. She wasn't so special, after all.

As soon as Professor Slughorn had dismissed their class, Lily wasted no time in marching towards them, her pretty face marred by a scowl. She turned to James and started to say something, but Sirius cut her off.

"Sluggy didn't take any points from me, so I don't see why you should."

Lily faced him, her hands on her hips. "It was you!" she said angrily.

Sirius smirked. "Yes, but that was for James. And there's going to be more of that where it came from."

Lily flushed. So they knew. She wanted to rant about how pathetic and immature they all were, but refused to make a fool of herself once more. Sirius always outsmarted her in the end. Frustrated with unleashing her anger, she turned on her heels and stomped away from them.

James watched her go and then turned to Sirius. "Don't say anything like that next time, mate," he said quietly. "I don't want her to think I'm still hopelessly wasting away for her."

"Aren't you?" Sirius asked.

"Not anymore. I'm done with her," James replied, his face resolute. Inside, however, he really wasn't sure at all, but what was important was that he had decided he would be. How long it would take for him to be certain, he didn't know, but he hoped it wouldn't be long.

"If you say so," Sirius said sceptically.

"That wasn't really a prank, was it?" Remus asked as they exited the dungeons. "I mean, there weren't any laughs, and it wasn't really fun watching Lily get angry."

"It wasn't?" Sirius repeated. "You're losing your touch, Moony." He led the way up to the first floor, but just as they were on the foot of the stairs to the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, James encircled Hermione's wrist with his large hand.

She turned to him with a questioning look. He had been acting strange all day.

"Would you care to go for a walk?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Do Head Boys and Girls really have a separate bedroom and bathroom, or is that something made up by fanfiction writers? Haha. I checked the Lexicon and couldn't find any information of that sort; from what I remember, the only thing they have separate from the others is that carriage on the train. Haha. Anyway, for purposes of this story, I assumed they slept in the same dormitories as the others, since it didn't seem plausible otherwise. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **As most of you have probably figured out, the following chapters will be quite happy from now on—at least for Hermione. Haha. I don't think I'm much good with romantic fluff, but let's see. :)

**Chapter Summary: **They say that when two paths cross, it's for a reason. As James and Hermione struggle to make sense of the rationale, they unknowingly weave their lives intricately together, thereby sealing their fates and grasping the Wizarding world's in their linked hands.

* * *

**Chapter 14: Intertwined**

_If I believed in magic spells  
It all would be so clear.  
A magic spell must have  
Brought you here.  
If I could see the future  
I'd see if you and I  
Were meant to be.  
But I don't know any magic  
And tomorrow's just a dream  
But something in this fantasy is real._

_--- Randy Goodrum (If I Believed) ---_

Hermione blinked, startled. What was he up to—sitting beside her in class, asking her to join them for lunch, and now requesting an afternoon stroll with her? Her heart was fluttering erratically, however hard she tried to squelch her hopes. _No, it's impossible. He couldn't have forgotten Lily Evans in a snap, not after having fancied her for years. It must be about last night.__Everything about today is_.

Another spasm of bitterness engulfed her, and she took a deep breath to force it away. She had to say no; he wanted to be with her for all the wrong reasons. "Uh—"

"Please?" James interrupted. She couldn't be thinking of turning him down. Maybe the magic word would help.

She swallowed hard, silently cursing the imploring hazel eyes looking down at her. How could she refuse? Nervous, Hermione nodded imperceptibly.

James smiled in relief; he had been anxiously waiting for her answer. Together, they retraced their steps to the doorway of the castle and stepped onto the grounds. It had just stopped drizzling, and the sun's rays were straining through the clouds.

Hermione inhaled the scent of grass, enjoying the feel of her feet padding softly on the slightly wet ground. James, on the other hand, was looking up the sky, his heart lightening considerably at the colourful bands overhead. Its appearance after the rain was somehow symbolic; he had never thought a rainbow could be so beautiful.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked as she shrank her bag and slipped it into her pocket. She gestured at his, which was slung over his shoulder. "Is yours okay?"

James simply stared at her, painfully reminded of the teddy bear, flowers and chocolates he'd miniaturised last night. He shook himself out of his reverie and nodded. "It's fine." And then, remembering her first question, he added, "Anywhere. I just wanted to talk." If he didn't get the chance to do soon, he would explode.

His unease was reminiscent of the first few moments of their night together, when he had told her how he felt about her and had held her in his arms... Hermione shivered at the memory.

The movement drew his attention, and he turned his surprisingly warm eyes on her. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head, mesmerised. He smiled faintly and looked into the distance, wondering how best to start, as though the proper words to say were right there. James quickly opted for, "Did you get enough sleep last night?" It was lame, he knew, but at least it would open conversation on the track he wanted.

"Quite," Hermione replied dazedly. "You?"

He merely shrugged and assumed a thoughtful expression. "Last night, after I retched, what happened?"

"You fell asleep," Hermione answered quickly, faintly pink, "but not before I dried your clothes. You were all wet and muddy when you came in." She didn't have any intention of telling him the details of how she had cared for him, so she decided to turn the tables on him. "What happened to you anyway?" she asked. She knew the answer, but was curious to see how he would respond, if he would at all.

"Drank all the Firewhiskey I could at The Three Broomsticks, this little pub at Hogsmeade. You do know what Hogsmeade is, don't you?" He waited for her affirmative and continued. "Madam Rosmerta initially wouldn't allow me, but she's always had a soft spot for the four of us. So I got crocked, returned to Hogwarts, and went flying. It was raining heavily and my brain was already dim, so I fell from quite a height and landed hard on the ground," James finished matter-of-factly, as though he was narrating someone else's life.

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly open. _That explains the arm_, she thought. She restrained herself from asking what had provoked him to react crazily like that, hoping he would tell her on his own.

"I was so angry last night," James murmured in a low voice. "Angry and hurt that she rejected me again, especially after everything I did. I meant what I said a while ago. She doesn't deserve me, since she cannot even see who I really am. I'm giving up on her. That's what she wants anyway," he said bitterly.

Hermione still did not speak, a multitude of contradicting ideas running through her mind. She understood the fact that he was hurt, but why did he turn to her instead of his fellow Marauders? Did that mean…?

James chanced a look at her and saw her in deep thought. Misunderstanding her reaction, he immediately regretted his outburst. "I'm sorry again. I shouldn't have taken it all out on you."

She looked up from her feet and smiled uncertainly. "It's all right, James. But I just don't understand—" Hermione hesitated, but plunged ahead anyway. "Are you telling me this because you have to or because you want to?"

"A little of both, I guess," he immediately answered sheepishly. James cocked his head to one side and smiled handsomely, and Hermione inwardly sighed. "I thought I owed you an explanation, and at the same time, I wanted everything off my mind." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And I thought you were the best one to understand."

Hermione straightened up, wondering if she had heard him right. She then burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Should I be thrilled?" she asked jokingly, ignoring the sudden quickening of her pulse that was telling her she was undeniably pleased by his words.

"You should consider yourself privileged indeed," he replied, relaxed but serious. Her laughter had diffused the tension between them and had easily driven the remaining grey clouds away. "After all, not everyone gets to talk with me, especially on personal matters."

"Yeah, and they're certainly missing half of their lives," Hermione retorted sarcastically, still smiling and her tone light.

"Of course. Could you imagine how stale your life would be if you didn't know me?"

Hermione knew he was teasing, but decided to give him a heartfelt answer. "I cannot imagine life without you."

It was James's turn to laugh. "What flattery. That's what I like in a girl."

She grimaced good-humouredly, and he just laughed again. After that, their conversation turned to more pleasant topics. And like she always did whenever she was alone with him, she marvelled at the grace with which he carried himself and the peaceful sense of belonging she felt in his company.

"I'm a pureblood," James said when they had begun talking about their families. "I have no siblings since Mum and Dad had me rather late in life. What about you?" he inquired, looking sincerely interested.

"My parents are Muggles. They're dentists," Hermione answered. At James's baffled look, she laughed and pointed at her teeth. "Dentists. They treat teeth in a non-Magical way."

"Oh, I see," James said, even though it was quite obvious that he did not. "You're an only child as well?"

She grinned up at him. "Yes, but unlike you, I'm not spoiled rotten to the core."

James made a face and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I'm not spoiled, just strong-minded," he corrected. "I like getting my own way. But then again, who doesn't?"

They walked in silence for the next couple of minutes. James realised that this was the longest time he could remember being able to maintain conversation with a girl. From his limited experience, he either lost interest because of the girls' constant simpering and eyelash-batting, or he irritated them by his brash attitude. He glanced furtively at Hermione. _She must really be tolerant._

"Don't you find me arrogant?" James prompted out of the blue, puzzled that he got along very well with her.

"Not really," Hermione answered automatically.

He raised a dubious brow. "Which means?"

She looked straight at him and smiled. She knew just what to tell him. "There is a very thin line between confidence and arrogance, James," she said patiently. "You are on that line, and though one foot steps over sometimes, it really isn't too bad. It's something called..." She paused, frowning pensively. "It's called earned arrogance."

"You mean I have bragging rights?"

Hermione shook her head in amusement. "You always interpret things to your advantage, don't you? Well then, yes, you could say that."

James exhaled and grinned, his bruised ego somewhat tended to. He almost didn't care whether or not she meant what she said; it was enough simply hearing those words.

_At least she understands me._

It was dinner when they reentered the castle, laughing and punching each other playfully on the arm.

Sirius, who was already wolfing down his food, eyed James and Hermione suspiciously as they approached. "What's with them?" he demanded between mouthfuls.

"They've been acting weird all day," Peter agreed.

Remus' lips were curved in an odd, quizzical smile as he watched his friends approach. He merely shrugged in response as he tried to ignore the tightness that suddenly erupted inside.

* * *

That night, Hermione stayed up late writing down everything that had happened, stopping only once in a while to hug her knees to herself and close her eyes as she relived them in her mind.

For the first time since she had arrived, Hogwarts felt like home.

* * *

On the other side of the Gryffindor tower, a lanky, dark-haired boy with glasses was still awake, his eyes fixed once more on his ceiling. Unlike that morning, the bland designs now seemed familiar and comforting. He had just returned from his rounds with Lily. He had anticipated a confrontation, had been ready to forgive her if she would just apologise—had been _hoping_ she would apologise—but she had acted as though last night had never happened. She really didn't give a damn about him. He didn't know whether to be angry or relieved, but he could not mistake the pain that had sliced through him at the realisation he had been so wrong about her.

But then there was her. _Regina_. The welcoming smile that greeted him the moment he returned to the common room had lightened his heart, the way it always did. The way everything about her did. Today had definitely turned out better than he had expected, and he hadn't had a lot to drink this time.

It was a pleasant feeling—one that made him wish it would never end.

* * *

"Where's James?" Remus asked, a slight frown on his face as he joined Peter and Sirius at a table in the common room after class that Friday. It seemed like he had done nothing the whole week but wonder about James's whereabouts in the afternoon.

Sirius briefly looked up from what he was writing just to say, "Guess."

"Somewhere out on the grounds with Regina, I suspect," Peter speculated for Remus.

Remus glanced out the window, where dark grey clouded the sky and rain was literally pouring. "It hardly looks like the perfect weather for a stroll," he remarked dryly.

"It must be the company he's after," Peter said carelessly, oblivious to the shadow that passed over Remus' face.

"What, is Regina the sun now?" Sirius reacted mockingly. Before Remus could come to her defence again, however, he jerked his head towards the portrait hole. "Well, you don't have much worrying to do now." James and Hermione had just climbed through it—wet, splattered with mud and dishevelled, but looking inordinately happy. He waited for them to acknowledge their presence, but they seemed to be caught up in their own world.

"You stink," James told her, squeezing his nose tightly and scrunching up his face in mock distaste.

He looked so stupid that Hermione could not help but laugh. "So do you. You double stink."

Sirius rolled his eyes as James said, "I guess I better help you with that then," reached out and pinched the bridge of Hermione's nose. She gave a little shriek and slapped his hand away playfully.

"Potter, you're ruining the carpet," a stern, female voice admonished from a distance. "I'm surprised Filch hasn't given you detention yet."

James inclined his head towards the voice and saw Lily glaring at him. Everybody fell quiet and watched with bated breath as they wondered what he would do next, but he simply narrowed his eyes fleetingly and returned his attention to Hermione.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said evenly; his good mood had obviously evaporated. "You should too or you'll get sick." He marched to the stairs up to his dormitory after that, taking care to wet the carpet as much as he could.

Hermione watched him go before turning to Lily, irritated. What right did she have to bring James down each time? Their eyes met, and she saw in those bright green discs a mixture of fury and confusion—and strangely, uncertainty.

_It's your loss._

Unnerved, she turned on her heels and headed for her own room.

* * *

Five minutes later, James returned downstairs after a quick shower. He looked around and saw Lily nowhere. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. _Thank Merlin_. He had been trying his best to avoid her for a week, hoping it would help ease the anguish that still gnawed him inside. It had worked to some extent, as long as he kept his conversations with her to a minimum. If he had a choice, he would have skipped his Head Boy rounds with her altogether—but he didn't want her to think he was still hung up on her.

Despite all his efforts, however, he'd been blown away by the sight of her a while ago. He didn't think she could look more beautiful, even though she was glaring at him. Even though it seemed like all the feelings of hatred she'd ever harboured were only for him. He had to work hard to remind himself that she was the same woman who had torn off a piece of his heart each time he had offered it to her, the one he had mistakenly believed he would build his home and future with.

He bit his lower lip as he tried to take hold of his emotions, walked towards the table his fellow Marauders occupied and slid beside Sirius.

"What are you all so busy doing?" he asked, watching them scribble hurriedly on their parchments.

"Charms," Peter answered swiftly. "Have you done yours yet?"

James blinked in surprise. "It slipped my mind."

"I daresay," Sirius said with satisfaction. "It isn't due until Monday anyway, so you have the whole weekend to do it. Except that it's Hogsmeade weekend, of course. I highly doubt you want to spend the whole of it holed up in this forsaken tower."

_Hogsmeade weekend_. He was supposed to be looking forward to tomorrow, to spending a whole, wonderful day with Lily. His heart cracked open a bit more. James shook his head forcefully to erase thoughts of her, reached for a parchment, and borrowed both a quill and the book from Sirius. He started writing and then realised that Remus had not spoken since he entered the common room. James was reminded of a question he had neglected to ask him.

"Moony, have you asked her yet?"

There was an uncomfortable pause as Remus stopped writing and simply stared at his essay. It took several heartbeats before he looked up, shaking his sandy hair out of his eyes. He knew what James was talking about, of course, but he pretended not to. He tilted his head to one side in a questioning look.

"Regina," James said. He felt a shiver run through him as her name rolled easily off his tongue. "Have you asked her out yet?"

Remus stared into his friend's hazel eyes, wondering if he was serious. _How could I possibly ask her with you hanging around by her side all the time?_ "No, not yet."

James looked genuinely surprised. "Why not? She's terrific!" he exclaimed, a smile lighting up his face.

_Oh, so now you realise that too?_ Remus very seldom got irritated, but if James kept up what he was doing, his patience would most definitely snap.

"She's great to be around with, to talk to," James continued. He was either oblivious to the frown creasing Remus' forehead or took it as a sign that he should elaborate. "When you're talking, she has that thoughtful expression on her face that assures you she's really listening." His face grew brighter with each word.

"What do you talk about—Lily?" Sirius asked jokingly.

James's features darkened, but only momentarily. "No," he said casually. "We talk about everything but her."

_Ah, now I see._ If Remus didn't like the fact that James was spending so much time with her, he disliked the reason behind it even more.

"So why haven't you asked her yet?" James repeated, his attention shifting back to Remus.

"I changed my mind," he said abruptly.

"I thought you liked her," James reminded him, confused.

_Yes, I do._ For the first time that evening, Remus locked eyes with James. "No. Not that way," he lied softly, gauging his friend's reaction.

James frowned. "Why not? Are you sure?"

Remus forced a smile. "Of course. I never said otherwise. You just assumed that."

His hazel eyes studied him intently for several more moments before coming to a decision. He looked down at his parchment. "Well, if you're sure, that means I could ask her then," he mused absentmindedly. And then, as if realising what he just said, James jerked his head up to look at them again. "Ask her to go with us, I mean. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

Peter shook his head at once while Remus and Sirius gaped at him.

Sirius shrugged noncommittally. "Yes, I would mind, but I don't think my vote would count anyway."

"No, I wouldn't. You can ask her, James. You don't need our permission," Remus replied quietly.

James grinned. He leaned back in his seat and resumed writing, glancing up once in a while to check if Hermione was on her way downstairs. After almost ten minutes more of fidgety waiting, he saw her descend the flight of steps, and as soon as their eyes met, his face broke into a warm smile. She returned it and walked towards them.

Remus sneaked a glance at her as she sat down beside him. He didn't know if it was because she had just taken a luxurious bath, but she seemed so alive, so vibrant—almost happy. She was a splendid sight to behold, so why was looking at her so painful?

"You're still wet," James told her, gesturing at her mahogany curls. Even her complexion was dewy, and she looked as though she had just woken up.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, but at least I don't stink anymore." She turned to Remus, who had to clench his fists under the table to keep himself from rubbing a damp lock of hair between his fingers. The scent of vanilla, which he had come to associate with her, overwhelmed him again. It took several moments before he could look her in the eye.

"Could I borrow your extra quill?" she requested. Apparently, _she_ had not forgotten her Charms assignment.

With her looking at him like that, how could he possibly decline? Wordlessly, he reached into his bag, pulled it out and handed it to her. He prayed she wouldn't notice the weak trembling of his hand.

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling briefly before asking James to pass her a spare parchment.

Remus glanced at James while Hermione was busy writing, wondering why he hadn't popped the question yet. To his surprise, he saw that he was rubbing his hands together, the way he did whenever he was nervous. It was a while before the thought registered. James Potter was nervous about asking somebody other than Lily Evans.

James gnawed at his lower lip as he watched Hermione, who seemed engrossed with her Charms homework. Why were the right words so hard to come by these days? _What are you so worried about anyway?_ he asked himself. It wasn't a big deal; she wasn't Lily. His mind sifted through all the moments they had spent together the past week. He had indeed enjoyed her company and was almost certain she did his as well.

_She isn't Lily._ The idea resounded in his head and made him feel better.

Before he could lose his nerve, he reached out and tapped her lightly on her wrist. Immediately, she looked up at him, a questioning look on her face.

"It's Hogsmeade weekend," James started, a hint of a smile on his face. "You know that village I told you about? Hogwarts students have permission to visit every now and then, and a trip has been scheduled for tomorrow."

She didn't say anything, just continued staring at him with those wide-set, expressive eyes that he had learned to depend on for comfort and assurance.

"Would you like to go with us?" he finally managed to get out, gesturing awkwardly at his fellow Marauders. "It'll be really fun," he assured her. "There's this awesome joke shop—Zonko's—that never fails to fulfil our fantasies. But if you don't like that, there's a quill shop as well, and then we can all go for a drink at The Three Broomsticks. Oh, and there's Honeydukes—"

A small smile was tugging at the corners of Hermione's lips as she listened to James babble continuously, never breaking his eye contact with her. "Okay," she interrupted simply.

"Okay?" James's shoulders twitched in surprise. _She actually said yes?_ He paused and then smiled more widely as he nodded. "Okay," he repeated.

Hermione looked at him for just one more second before resuming with her writing. With her head lowered, James wouldn't see the big smile that threatened to give her away. She didn't want him to think the Hogsmeade trip meant a lot to her.

Feeling lightheaded, James remained looking at her long after she had turned her attention to her essay. After a while, his eyes drifted towards Remus and met his once more. He grinned and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

Remus offered a small, tight smile in return. James probably didn't realise how stupid and goofy he looked at that moment, but Remus knew.

After all, he had seen that expression three hundred and seventy-nine times before.

* * *

Hermione had no trouble waking up early the following morning even though she had had difficulty falling asleep the night before. She had never been so excited about a trip to Hogsmeade. She quickly showered, dressed into her robes and dashed out the door of her dormitory, only slowing down on her descent to the common room.

The moment she reached the last rung of the stairs, she saw James alone on a couch, staring pensively into the dying flames. Hermione slowly made her way towards him, captivated once more by his striking profile, the sound of her feet muffled by the carpet.

And then, as though aware of her presence, James turned in her direction just as she was about to call his name. They simply stared at each other for several seconds, as though spellbound by a powerful enchantment, before his face lit up in a smile.

"Morning," he greeted as he stood up and walked towards her.

His stance made her heart skip a beat. Everything about him, even at this young age, implied strength and power. "Morning," she returned, her voice barely above a whisper. "Where are the others?"

James jammed his hands into his pockets. "Already down at the Great Hall," he said. He cupped Hermione's elbow, causing a jolt of electricity to pass through her, and steered her towards the portrait hole. "I told them I'd wait for you."

Hermione let the giddiness sweep over her before answering. "Thanks," she said, smiling up at him as they went down the stairs.

The two of them joined the other Marauders for a hearty breakfast before all the students visiting Hogsmeade were asked to assemble at the entrance to the Great Hall. They fell in line, and while watching Filch scrutinise each person going out and checking if they had been given permission to visit the village, a disturbing thought occurred to Hermione.

"I don't have a signed form from my parents," Hermione whispered to James, who was in line behind her.

James's eyes widened, but only for a split second, before smiling secretively at her. "It doesn't matter." He turned to Sirius, who was in the rear, and muttered, "Let's meet at Honeydukes."

Sirius' forehead wrinkled even though he had grasped the implication of James's words. "Why?"

"Regina," James answered, nodding towards her. He stepped out of the queue, taking Hermione's hand in his and swiftly heading to the stairs, pulling her after him, hoping the caretaker wouldn't notice them.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked breathlessly. She wasn't sure whether it was due to the physical exertion after hurriedly climbing three flights of stairs—she wasn't a Quidditch player like him, after all—or to the emotions his touch awoke in her.

"The third floor," James answered as they walked down a corridor.

"Obviously," Hermione said dryly, comprehension dawning at the sight of the hump-backed, one-eyed witch in the distance.

When they reached it, James took out his wand and held it aloft, his other hand never letting go of hers. He turned to face her. "I am about to show you a very important bit of knowledge they don't teach in class or print in books." He tapped the statue lightly with his wand, muttered "_Dissendium!_", just as she had known he would, and watched as the hump opened up to reveal the secret passageway to Hogsmeade.

James looked back at her, expecting her to be awestruck. He was let down when he saw mere amusement on her face. "Well?" he demanded. "Aren't you impressed?"

"Where does it lead?" Hermione asked, knowing the answer.

"The cellar of Honeydukes," James said. "We use this route most often whenever we want to sneak out of school. I reckon nobody but the four of us—and now you—know about this."

"Amazing," Hermione said, making James smile. She couldn't believe he still needed praise from her to bolster his confidence. "How did you come by this?"

James's smile widened. _She sounds like she really wants to know._ "We do a lot of exploring at night, under a cloak," he explained, making the cloak sound like an ordinary one. "We stumbled upon this during one of those times, but we couldn't figure out how to open it at first. It was Remus and Peter who did." He decided not to tell her yet about the map.

"So we have to crawl through that tunnel to get to Hogsmeade?" Hermione inquired.

He nodded and motioned for her to climb through first. "Light your wand," he instructed when she was inside. James also entered afterwards, likewise muttering _Lumos_, and followed her as she made her way down the passageway.

"Watch out for the trapdoor; it might hit your head," James cautioned after almost an hour in the dark.

Hermione, however, already knew the path by heart and had pushed open the trapdoor almost immediately after James's warning. She climbed out and waited for James to hoist himself up as well. They both brushed dirt off their robes and stealthily made their way to the top floor of the store, hardly noticed due to the number of students milling around.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" James asked as his eyes wandered in search for his friends.

"Aside from the cold, no," Hermione answered, spotting Remus' sandy hair under a sign that read _Unusual Tastes_. "There they are," she told James, pointing in that direction. They struggled through the crowd as they made their way there, James holding Hermione's hand once more.

"Hey," James greeted, clapping Remus on the shoulder.

Remus turned. His blue eyes travelled down the length of their arms, and he stiffened at the sight of their hands clasped comfortably together. "Hey," he replied hollowly, still not looking up.

"Finally, mate," Sirius drawled. "We were worried you ended up at Madame Puddifoot's instead. What's that?" he questioned, his voice a little hostile as he nodded towards their joined hands.

Both of them instantly let go of each other, shocked to realise that their hands had indeed been linked, and for quite some time already. "Shut up," James answered good-naturedly, peering at the display over Peter's shoulder to cover up his embarrassment. "Did you see anything you like?" he asked his friends.

Peter shook his head violently. "Ugh, no. Blood-flavoured lollies and Cockroach Clusters are really disgusting. Who would want to eat them?"

"I think I'll get some more of those Pepper Imps and exploding bonbons," Sirius announced, walking towards another display, this time under the sign _Special Effects_. Peter accompanied Sirius while Remus just stood in place, looking at everywhere except James and Hermione.

James shrugged and turned to Hermione. "Allow me to show you the best of Honeydukes," he said jokingly, bowing pompously before her and causing her to laugh. He enveloped her hand in his again and led her to where the finest and most expensive chocolates were. The box he had bought for Lily had come from there. _Lily._ He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw at the bitter reminder. He summoned his resolve to banish all thoughts of her from his mind. When would he ever stop associating everything with her?

"Those are really delicious," he told Hermione, indicating a bunch of large bars, "though admittedly not presentable."

Hermione shook her head. "I—I don't have any money with me," she said weakly. "I didn't bring any from home."

"Oh, didn't I tell you it was my treat?"

Her face lit up in surprised delight. "Really?"

His own features brightened as well. She was just so appreciative, counting even the smallest things as blessings. "Yes, really. So which ones do you want?"

Hermione chose a box of chocolate roses, akin to what he had once given her, and a big chunk of white chocolate studded with cookie bits. Her face was alight with happiness as James paid for the goods and presented them to her with a flourish. She giggled at his silly antics. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," James answered warmly. They met up with the other Marauders outside the sweetshop, Sirius already holding his stash.

"Where to next?" Remus asked flatly before Sirius could insert another snide comment about James and Hermione, which he wasn't in the mood to hear. What he really wanted to do was return to Hogwarts; it definitely had not been an enjoyable day, but he didn't want to spoil his friends' fun just because he was feeling jealous. _No, not jealous,_ he corrected himself mentally. _Just irritable. I must be coming down with something._

"Zonko's," Peter responded promptly. "It's too early in the day for butterbeer."

They set about the path to the joke shop along with a plethora of other Hogwarts students. Hermione had opened the bar of chocolate and broken it into pieces, which she shared with the Marauders. Remus had reluctantly taken the portion she offered. It wasn't like him to be so glum, especially on such a fine day, and Hermione wondered briefly what could be bothering him.

Inside Zonko's, James, Sirius and Peter immediately started gathering joke items and tricks, including Dungbombs, fake wands and Hiccup Sweets. Hermione stood back in one corner together with Remus, who was oddly distant. The silence was awkward, and she prayed the others would finish their business as soon as possible. Besides, the air was smothering her.

"Do you want to step outside?" Remus asked quietly. The fact that he had spoken to her for the first time that week startled her more than his question. She automatically looked across at James, who was busy raiding the shelves. Remus saw the gesture and added reassuringly, "We can wait for them there."

Hermione thought that made sense and agreed. She deeply breathed in the fresh air the moment they stepped out into the busy street. The two of them walked some distance from Zonko's and took shelter under a shed, neither saying a word.

She tore off another piece of her chocolate and proffered it to Remus. As she had expected, he shook his head in response. Hermione frowned. "Is something bugging you?"

"No. I'm just not hungry," Remus answered straightaway. He bit his lower lip and focused his eyes on the ground. "Is there something going on between you and James?" He knew his words sounded so petty, but he just had to ask. He could only keep so much to himself.

Her frown deepened at his sharp tone. "No," she replied defiantly. "Is that what's bothering you—James spending more time with me than with the Marauders?"

Remus raised his brows, surprised at her train of thought. For such a smart, keen student, she really could be infuriatingly imperceptive at times. Didn't she realise how much he liked her? _Hey, I said I didn't like her_, he reminded himself. _At least not that way_.

"No," he said. "I was just… curious."

Hermione didn't respond to that, Remus' question still resounding in her head. Was there anything going on between her and James? She wanted to laugh out loud. She desperately wished there was, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that James was attracted to her despite all the attention he had been showering her with. In the deepest corners of her heart, she knew he was still hurting about Lily and that he was just refusing to show it because that was what James Potter was famous for. Control.

"I'm sorry for annoying you again," Remus suddenly said, his voice breaking her musings.

She shrugged and freed herself from her reverie. "Apology accepted," she said easily, smiling slightly. "Now what have you been up to this past week? I don't think we even exchanged two words before today!"

Remus made an effort to smile and share her good spirits. "I've been having the same week you have." _You were just too busy with James to notice._

"Oh, come on, there must be something," she prodded.

He shook his head weakly and countered, "I'd rather hear about yours."

"Mine? It wasn't anything exciting." The rush of colour that tinted her cheeks told him otherwise. "I was just with James."

Remus could not help notice the distinct caress in her voice as she mentioned his friend's name. "Really. And what did you do?"

"Talked, mostly," Hermione said, staring into the distance with glazed eyes and an almost dreamy expression on her face. "About each other, about Hogwarts, about everything." She turned to Remus, and again there was that vivacity she displayed whenever she was with James. "I learned he wasn't all about arrogance, that he's just as kind and caring and vulnerable as any other person. But I shouldn't go talking about him that way because I don't think he wants people to know that side of him. Not yet anyway." She smiled self-consciously, with the air of someone who knew another more intimately than she would ever let anybody know.

"You're fascinated with him," Remus stated, trying to dull the ache that was making it hard for him to breathe.

Her features relaxed into a beatific smile. "He _is_ fascinating."

Remus regretted starting such a conversation; he didn't want to hear anything else about James anymore. His heart roared in his ears even as it crumpled. _She likes him. She really, really likes him._ He bit the inside of his cheek so hard, he almost tasted blood.

"Oi!" a male voice shouted, causing Remus and Hermione to jerk towards the source of the sound. James was running towards them; Sirius and Peter, who were carrying one large bag each, were not far behind. "We've been looking for you," he said when he reached them, his eyes flickering from Remus to Hermione. "Sorry we took so long."

"It's fine," Hermione answered.

"Could we proceed to the Broomsticks, please?" Peter requested, huffing when he caught up with them. "My legs are tired."

"Your legs are _always_ tired," Sirius retorted jokingly. "But hey, we could all use some drinks."

_I desperately need one_, Remus added silently. _Or maybe even more than one._ Perhaps there was something to be said for James drowning himself in Firewhiskey last weekend.

James adjusted his glasses and sighed. "I was hoping we could show Regina around," he said. "After all, it's her first time here."

Sirius and Peter didn't bother hiding the fact that they found James's suggestion unwelcome. Remus interfered by conceding, "Go with her then, Prongs. We'll meet you at the Broomsticks later."

"I think that would be better," James concurred at once. He waited until his three friends had turned their backs on him and headed in the opposite direction before turning to Hermione. "What do you want to see next?"

Hermione smiled, content to be alone with him again. "Anything—it doesn't really matter. By the way, what did you buy from Zonko's?" she asked, starting conversation while walking.

James regaled her with the magical properties of the items they had purchased from the joke shop as they strolled the streets of Hogsmeade. They passed by the Shrieking Shack, and James didn't say anything about it except that it was the most haunted house in Britain. The sight of it recalled Remus to his mind, however, and he couldn't help but question Hermione, "What did you and Remus talk about earlier?"

"When?" Hermione returned, finding his query strange.

"Earlier," James repeated. "While the rest of us were inside Zonko's."

Hermione's brows knitted. "Nothing extraordinary, really. We just did some catching up with each other since we had not been able to converse for almost a week now."

"Oh." _He said he didn't fancy her that way._ James paused for a moment and then added, "He didn't say anything about…" His voice trailed off.

"About what?"

He changed his mind at the last second. "Never mind. It's not important."

"Something must be bothering him though," Hermione volunteered. "He certainly didn't seem like himself, sounding sharp and anxious…" She let the sentence hang.

"Do you like him?" James asked, his tone unintentionally terse.

It took a second before the implication of his question hit her. Irritably, Hermione wondered what had gotten into both James and Remus today. "No, why?" At his dubious reaction, Hermione sighed and elaborated. "Well, yes, as a friend. But as something more, no. What do you care anyway?"

James shrugged, feeling rather ridiculous now. She was right; what did her answer matter to him? "It's just that everyone likes Remus, and he doesn't even make any effort to try and do so. If he weren't my friend, I would be very jealous of him."

They turned round a corner to High Street and passed Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where a set of exquisite pheasant-feather quills on display caught Hermione's attention. She rushed to it for a closer look, James following her.

"What excellent quills!" she exclaimed animatedly, gazing at them and then turning to James. "Aren't they pretty?"

James smiled. "Which one do you want?"

"That one in the middle," Hermione answered instantly, pointing. "Black and gold. It's very elegant." Her eyes rounded in disbelief when he took her hand and steered her inside the shop, plucked the black-and-gold pen on display and paid for it. He did everything so spontaneously that she could do nothing but watch in awe. His actions took her breath away; she couldn't even thank him when he handed the package to her.

"This was expensive," Hermione managed a few minutes later, when they were on their way to The Three Broomsticks.

"You said you wanted it," James said. "I got the correct one, didn't I?"

Hermione laughed at his inconsequential statement. "You did, but that wasn't my point. Thank you. That was really sweet of you."

James did a double take. "So now I'm not a conceited jerk? I think I like that better." Her laugh was as resplendent and charming as the peal of ringing church bells, and when he told her so, she responded with another laugh.

"You really should do that more often," James said, delighting in that sound of pure happiness, which he most definitely could get used to.

"I promise, you're making my head as bloated as yours," Hermione said.

"No, it really is becoming of you," James insisted. His compliment made her smile, and for the first time, he acknowledged the attractiveness of her lively brown eyes, the charming dimple in her left cheek, and the natural flush on her face that could only be from sheer bliss. He had never seen anyone that content, and as he wondered at the source of her happiness, he wished she could share some of it with him.

Sirius was obviously already on his third butterbeer when they entered the pub, Peter was nibbling on something he had bought from Honeydukes and Remus was busy staring into space.

"Hello," Hermione said when they reached the table. All of them returned her greeting, although Sirius did so uninterestedly and Remus wasn't as enthusiastic as usual. She sat down beside Peter just as James went off to get their drinks.

"What took you so long?" Peter asked, looking like he really wanted to know.

She smiled as she fingered the package she was holding. Now that even Remus was being cold, Peter was easily the most considerate—next to James—among the four. "Explored the rest of Hogsmeade." Hermione tore the parcel slightly open and allowed Peter to peer at it. "Look, James bought me a pheasant-feather quill. Isn't it gorgeous?"

Peter beamed at her. "James really is wonderful, isn't he?"

Hermione nodded her assent, and the blush on her cheeks, which grew even brighter, did not escape Remus. A pang of pain stabbed his heart once again, and even more deeply, as James returned with two bottles of butterbeer and sat beside her. Remus envied their cosy companionship and the conversation between them that flowed naturally. Why couldn't things between him and her be like that? Didn't she say she found James obnoxious? Didn't James say Regina was the least of his worries? It all seemed a lifetime ago.

_Maybe I wasn't warm or thoughtful or interesting enough for her. Maybe she does care that I'm a werewolf._ He tore his eyes away from them with much difficulty and stared morosely at his glass, running a long finger over its rim. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. James was the smart, talented one. He was rich, awfully good-looking, popular and confident. He was Head Boy, Quidditch captain—he was the one every girl in school swooned over, secretly or no.

Remus leaned his head back, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. There was no way around it—he didn't like seeing Regina with James. How could he have not realised how much she meant to him? All at once, he regretted lying to himself and, in the process, relinquishing his chances with her. His miserable situation was indeed his fault, but only partly. He refused to put the blame entirely on himself.

If he were Regina Weisz, he would also be in love with James Potter.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the longer wait than usual. I'm afraid I won't be updating as frequently as I used to because I've got a lot of matters to attend to in school—both academic and extracurricular. I hope this more than makes up for it. Haha. After all, it's longer than I expected it would be, and I didn't even get to include the scene that was supposed to be the final one in this chapter. Oh, well, enough rambling. Enjoy!

**Chapter Summary: **In a world of uncertainties, James understands that there is at least one thing—one emotion—that anybody can be sure of.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Maybe**

_In another lifetime,  
It will be forever  
In another world where  
You and I can be together.  
In another set of chances,  
I'll take the ones I've missed  
And make you mine.  
If only for a time._

_--- Gary Valenciano (In Another Lifetime) ---_

"I enjoyed spending today with you," James told Hermione casually as they climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor tower. The unspoken question hung in the air. _Did you too?_

"I did as well," Hermione answered, her voice as soft as the clouds she felt she was floating on. James had been so sweet throughout the day, attending to her every whim and now taking the time to escort her back to the common room after dinner. Perfect. So wonderfully perfect. Hermione did not bother asking why he was doing all that he was. To do so would mean that she was questioning his motives, and she didn't want to do anything that could dampen the exciting newness of the relationship she was building with him.

They entered through the portrait hole, and James tossed a bag of sweets from Hogsmeade—which he had bought on their way back into the tunnel at Honeydukes—on the couch. He glanced at Hermione, who was looking expectantly at him and waiting for him to say something. Anything.

For the life of him, he could not. Time stood still as all his senses feasted on the enchantingly beautiful sight in front of him, her features made more radiant by the glow of the candlelight. He gazed at her as he stepped closer, his heart spinning wildly out of control. What was he feeling?

He was so near, Hermione was sure he could hear the nervous fluttering of her heart. She could not tear her eyes away from his, which had taken on a fire she had encountered in him only in her time. A small intake of breath revealed her surprise when he took her right hand, held it up to his lips and kissed it gently, almost reverently. Her voice caught in her throat. Was this really happening?

Equally startled at what he had just done, James almost dropped her hand. Instead, he lowered it carefully and, with his eyes back to normal, said, "I've got to report for my rounds." The slight hoarseness in his voice was the only indication of how intense his feelings were only a moment ago.

Hermione was both electrified by his touch and faintly disappointed at his attempted nonchalance. "Right. Good night then."

James smiled, somewhat relieved that she did not slap him across the face for allowing himself too much liberty. "Good night." He started to walk away, but turned back after only a few paces. He felt strangely reluctant to be without her. "Are you going to be awake still when I come back?"

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I can be, if you want me to," she responded shyly.

Tenderness swept over him. "No. I'd rather you rest; you must be tired." He started making his way towards the portrait hole, but stopped again and gave in to that urge to have another look at her. What an exquisite picture she painted. "Good night."

"Good night."

"Sweet dreams."

_Indeed._ "You too, James."

* * *

"Congratulations, mate," Sirius greeted enthusiastically the moment James took his place at the Gryffindor table. "Sunday morning, and you're already up? That's got to be a record!"

"I just didn't want to miss breakfast," James mumbled sleepily as he reached for a silver platter. "They say it's the most important meal of the day. Besides, it's such a magnificent morning. How could I waste it lounging around in bed?" He grinned lazily as his mind conjured up an image of Hermione the way she was last night. "By the way, is Regina awake?"

Remus looked up from his plate and stifled a wry smile. For all James's talk, he guessed this was the real reason he had roused himself this early. "I don't think so."

Marginally crestfallen, James leaned back in his seat. "Oh."

"Isn't one day of being with her enough?" Sirius asked, making it sound as though Hermione was very bad company.

James blinked. "What?"

"I said, isn't one day of—"

"I didn't mean a could-you-repeat-what-you-said what; I meant a what-do-you-think-you're-saying what!" James interrupted.

Sirius shrugged. "I was under the impression you woke up early just to see her again."

"I did—didn't," James denied, faltering.

Sirius guffawed at James's apparent discomfort. "Don't worry, mate. You can tell us."

"She's very nice, after all," Peter said, joining the conversation. "It wouldn't come as a big surprise if you do like her."

_I like her?_

"It wouldn't?" Sirius repeated, flabbergasted.

The screeching of a flock of owls soaring overhead drowned out Remus' comment on that last remark, and James sat up straighter as a small note landed right in front of him. He wasn't expecting any mail. He snatched it and tore it open impatiently, worried it might contain unwelcome news about his parents.

_James,_

_Thank you for everything. _

—_Regina—_

A big smile spread over James's face as he sat still for several seconds.

"Who was that from?" Peter asked, looking at the parchment his friend was happily staring at.

"Regina," James said promptly, finally looking up, still smiling. He folded the letter, tucked it into his robes and attacked his food with new gusto.

Sirius was observing him very carefully, trying to detect signs that his theory on James's sudden interest in Regina was correct. Failing, he decided to mention it outright and test his friend's reaction. "Well, Prongs, if you keep Operation Number three hundred and eighty up, I'm sure you'll have Evans saying yes in no time."

James gagged on the cured meat. "What?"

"Is that a could-you-repeat-what-you-said what or a—"

"No, it's a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about what," James interjected petulantly, rolling his hazel eyes. "Operation Number what? Lily what?"

Peter and Remus both tilted their heads toward them, listening intently. Sirius sighed and explained, "Operation Number three hundred and eighty. We stopped at three hundred and seventy-nine, didn't we? Or have you forgotten how to count?"

"And what exactly is the three hundred and eightieth plan?" James enquired, not understanding.

"Trying to make Evans jealous," Sirius answered simply.

James stared at his best friend for a full minute, letting the impact of his statement sink in, before bursting out laughing. "Wait. So you thought I befriended Regina and had been spending so much time with her because of Lily? Just because of her?" He laughed harder before gasping, "You're too much, Padfoot."

"Isn't that true?" Sirius demanded stoutly. "I certainly didn't buy any of what you said about getting over Evans. You couldn't have—not that easily. And you know what? I could just see this plan working. I saw Evans and Clarke talking seriously a while ago, their eyes drifting towards us, and I reckoned they were discussing you."

"Pretty big leap for a dog, Sirius," James said, slipping on purpose. He held up one hand to stop him from continuing. "I don't care. Like I said several times over, I'm finished with Evans. You're supposed to be my best friend. I am _so hurt_ you don't believe me," he added, feigning indignation.

"But everything seemed to happen so fast. You and Regina were, in a flash, this tight," Sirius argued, bringing his middle and index fingers together.

_Ah._ His friends didn't know everything that had happened that night almost one week ago, and even now, James didn't want to tell them. "Is the idea really so difficult to entertain? Regina is quite a character, you know." His expression became gentler at his next words. "She's too special to be used like that."

Remus could not contain his shock any longer. The only instances he heard James talk as such was whenever he spoke of Lily. Sirius was right; everything was happening too fast.

Sirius maintained a look of utmost scepticism. "I suppose you're right," he agreed grudgingly. "It certainly does not make sense trying to spark Evans' jealousy over a very plain girl. She's not even beautiful, and I'm sure you could have chosen a better one."

_She's not?_ Remus, despite his good nature, suddenly felt inclined to throw a hex at Sirius for his indiscretion. He glanced at the doors of the Great Hall to avert his annoyance and saw Hermione stride in. Even from a distance, he could not help but admire the quiet poise with which she moved.

James noticed Remus' line of sight and followed it, pleased where it ended. "Well then, Sirius, I guess I should be happy you don't find her attractive. Saves me some trouble, I daresay." He kept his eyes on her as she approached them from his side on the table. All his confidence, however, evaporated the moment she was standing beside him, looking all fresh and delectable in a light pink cardigan that matched the flush on her cheeks.

"Morning," she greeted with a smile, her eyes locked with his as though he was the only one she could see was worth addressing. He felt his heart race once more.

"Morning," he replied warmly, patting the space beside him in an invitation to sit.

Hermione took the offered spot and smiled at the rest of the Marauders. "Morning."

Remus' heart somewhat lifted at the attention, and he returned the greeting with the same enthusiasm.

James watched Hermione serve herself some food, enjoying the way her locks partially obscured her face and yet wanting to tuck them behind her ear. The storm of emotions that erupted in his chest stunned him. What was happening? Why was he feeling so much for her after only a short span of time? In the first place, what in the name of Merlin was he feeling anyway?

His brain easily supplied the answer. _I'm attracted to her._ He swallowed hard. Even the notion of being interested in a girl other than Lily Evans was foreign to him. _Maybe this is part of that getting over stage, a side effect of being rejected. Your attention latches on to the nearest member of the female population around._ The rationalisation sounded harsh and inadequate, even to his ears. He reached out and lightly brushed her slender wrist with the tips of his fingers.

Immediately, she turned to him. The movement caused her scented hair to tease the bridge of his nose. "Yes, James?"

He silently scolded himself for losing control and touching her, but why did she have to notice everything? He adjusted his glasses as he cast his mind around for something credible to say. "I—uh—what was that note about?"

She smiled, much to James's astonishment. "Oh, you got that already? I wanted to be here when you opened it." Hermione pursed her lips before continuing. "That little message was the first thing I wrote using the quill you bought for me. I wanted to surprise you."

James definitely wasn't expecting that answer, much less the warmth that engulfed him afterwards. "Well, you did."

"Did you keep it?" Hermione normally wouldn't have dared to hope, but just in case he did, she knew that would mean something. It had to.

James gestured towards his pocket. "Of course. But tell me if you want it framed or anything, and I'll be glad to oblige."

Hermione laughed, thankful that he knew just how to inject some humour into their conversation to keep it from becoming too serious. "That's not necessary."

"I know," James answered earnestly. "Its memory is enough."

* * *

Lily stared glumly at the parchment in front of her, which was sparsely covered with her Charms notes. In the background, Professor Flitwick was busy rambling about some of the more imaginative spells invented, and while normally Lily would have been listening with rapt attention, she was definitely not in the mood today. Come to think of it, she had not been for several days now—four, to be exact—since she had had that conversation with Alice that Sunday morning.

"I saw James and that new girl yesterday at Hogsmeade," Alice had opened conversationally.

"Uh—huh," she had replied uninterestedly. "I saw them too. I was with you, remember?"

A dreamy expression had crossed Alice's features. "Don't they look so sweet together? I wish Frank was more like James."

"Be careful what you wish for," Lily had retorted, annoyed at where the discussion was going. "If Frank was like James, I don't think you'd want to marry him anymore."

"On the contrary, I would," Alice had corrected. "James seems so stable; he's the one you can run away with, the one who can take care of you for the rest of your life."

Lily could not believe what she was hearing. The Alice she knew was too sensible to get in way over her head, especially over—_ugh_—James Potter. "Oh, so now you're one of those giggly girls who worship the ground he walks on?" she had snarled.

Alice had sighed. "You've got to admit, Lil. He _is_ attractive. If he would ever ask me, I'd immediately say yes." She had paused for a heartbeat and added, after surveying her friend intently, "Are you completely sure you don't like him?"

"Of course I'm sure. In fact, I am so confident I would bet my life on it," Lily had snapped. "I've been sure since I was in third year, so why should things be any different now? He certainly is still that same vile, despicable git whose head is so swollen, I'm amazed he can still strut around."

Alice had shrugged, knowing it was pointless to argue with the strong-willed redhead. "Well, I suppose it's better that way especially since he seems to be getting interested in somebody else," she had concluded with obvious relish. She had glanced down at the Gryffindor table; it had been hard to miss James and Regina sitting a little too close to each other to be just friends.

A hot, unfamiliar flame had seared through Lily at her friend's words and at the sight of them together, and even now, it still had not abated. She would never admit it to anyone, but she wanted to hex that stupid Potter senseless for—well, for irritating her this much. And no, she wasn't jealous. Lily Evans would never be jealous of anybody. It was just that the idea that one of her more ardent admirers forgetting and giving up on her so easily bruised a large portion of her ego.

_I guess I was right in my initial assessment of him_, Lily thought bitterly. _I was a mere conquest for him until someone else—someone easier to charm—came along_. She scribbled angrily on her parchment. She usually loved being right, so why could she hardly contain her fury?

"Miss Evans, would you like the honour of defining and demonstrating the Protean Charm?" Professor Flitwick requested. His voice, however, sounded dim to her ears.

"Miss Evans?" The slight rise in intonation intruded on Lily's reverie. She looked up and blinked, her mind still in a haze.

"I'm sorry, Professor. Could you repeat that for me?"

"I asked you to define and demonstrate the Protean Charm, Miss Evans," Professor Flitwick reiterated, watching his best student expectantly.

_Why in the world does he have to call on me today?_ Lily wondered irritably. She struggled through the cloudiness in her mind in an attempt to recall what she needed to cast that charm. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment; trust her brain to let her down at this crucial moment. "Uh—sorry, Professor. I—I don't remember."

Professor Flitwick's grey brows rose in surprise, and he paused for a moment before kindly saying, "It's fine, Miss Evans. I'm sure you'll look it up for next time, eh?"

Lily nodded, barely looking up in shame. She shifted slightly in her seat and looked back, wanting to shoot that arrogant Potter daggers. If only looks could kill.

She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth at the view that greeted her. Potter was busy showing that Regina something under his desk, his swollen head intimately bent towards her. It was obvious that he had not been paying attention for some time already and had probably not even noticed that something had happened to her.

Huffing testily, Lily turned to face the front once more, crossing her arms over her chest. Damn him; he didn't care. And neither would she.

* * *

"I didn't know you could write," James said teasingly as he slid into the couch beside Hermione, who was writing on a parchment, using her knees for support. It was almost nine in the evening, and he had just returned from his rounds. Most students considered Thursday to already be part of the weekend, but his fellow Marauders were still up, cramming the Potions assignment due the next day.

"Must be this new quill," Hermione answered back, melting from the warmth that emanated from him beside her.

"Doesn't look like Potions, huh?"

Hermione grinned at him. "That's only because I've finished mine, and it's there," she said, pointing at the other Marauders, "being copied by your friends."

James laughed, shaking his head in amazement.

"Hey, I'm only using it as a reference material," Sirius said defensively. "I would have done this on my own, had I not been too busy with Snape for the past hour."

James stopped smiling, and his forehead creased with worry. "What happened?"

"Oh, more of the same bull," Sirius answered nastily. "Got too cocky being in Slytherin despite being less than a pureblood and started taunting me about the same old thing. So I hung him upside-down and made him eat slugs, but turned out he was very good at nonverbal spells and managed to hit me with an Engorgement Charm."

"Where?" James asked, looking very concerned.

Sirius looked distinctly uncomfortable while Remus and Peter snickered. "Never mind that," he answered quickly. "My point is we have to exact revenge on that slimeball."

Peter nodded vigorously while Remus sighed. "Thank Merlin there's only one Snape in this world."

"Oh, come on," James said mockingly. "What would we do without Snivellus around?"

"What would we do indeed?" Sirius muttered as though in deep thought. He sat up straighter in an instant, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Maybe we could make the world a better place."

"How?" Hermione asked interestedly, pleased that Sirius was finally growing up.

Sirius smirked. "Multiple Snapes!"

Peter frowned. "What?"

"Is that a could-you-repeat-what-you-just-said what or a—"

James snorted. He had lost count of the number of times this week that Sirius had made that wisecrack.

"It's a could-you-please-elaborate-what-you-said what," Peter answered, cutting his friend short before he'd had his fun.

Sirius spread his hands out like his previous statement was obvious. "Multiple Snapes," he repeated. "He's such a git; he probably believes himself to be unique. Besides, it'll be a laugh."

"And how will we do that?" Remus asked.

"Wait a minute. Is this another prank?" Hermione demanded._ To think I was so naïve to believe he had finally stopped stooping to Snape's level._

"I thought you said she was smart," Sirius told Remus.

Hermione bristled, but before she could give Sirius a piece of her mind, James put a restraining hand on her and warningly said, "Sirius, that's enough."

Sirius raised his eyebrows and snorted, but he didn't say anything else about it. It had always been like that between the two of them. James was the only one he would listen to whenever he told him to stop whatever he was doing, and in turn, it was the same with him. He returned to the topic at hand. "Polyjuice Potion," he drawled, savouring the words. "You see, quite coincidentally, I had managed to cut off a large chunk of Snivellus' hair in Defence Against the Dark Arts today."

"Eew, yuck," Peter said with a shudder. "You actually touched his hair?"

Sirius glared at Peter. "I _am_ a wizard," he emphasised. "I don't need to lay my hands on such filth to get what I want."

"What did you do it for anyway?" James asked. It wasn't like Sirius to carefully think over a prank before setting out to do it.

Sirius shrugged. "On impulse. Thought it might come in handy someday." He withdrew a medium-sized glass bottle from his robes and showed it to his friends. "Doesn't it reek of oil and potential? And don't we have quite enough of the potion left from last time, enough for an hour's dosage for all Slytherins?"

Hermione could not help but shake her head in amusement as she stifled a smile. The boy was creative, that she would grant him.

James let out a low whistle, allowing his mind to picture the scenario. "So how do we slip it into their drinks?"

"Well, I haven't figured it out that far yet," Sirius admitted. "But I was thinking we could go into the kitchen and slip it into the Slytherin table's punch bowl. We could always ask the house-elves to help us."

"That sounds doable," Peter agreed. "But I think Prongs should talk to the house-elves himself."

"Thanks for volunteering me," James replied sarcastically. "Why me all of a sudden?"

Peter shrugged. "The house-elves love you. They wouldn't say no to you."

Hermione laughed. "I didn't know your charm went that far," she ribbed.

James smiled, now feeling a little embarrassed. "Maybe you should come with us too. It never hurts to have a girl around."

"And here I thought you wanted to be with me!" Hermione reacted, faking outrage.

_I do._ The thought came unbidden to James, and he was so relieved he had not spoken it out loud. "There are male house-elves too, you know," he joked instead, making her laugh once more.

Sirius rolled his eyes impatiently. "Do I need to send for some champagne?" At James and Hermione's questioning looks, he harrumphed and said, "Never mind."

"When do we do this prank?" Remus asked.

Sirius looked around the common room first before answering, his voice a notch lower. "Why not tonight? Most of the students are asleep anyway. As for the staff—well, we can use the cloak and the map."

"Sounds fine with me," James said and then turned to Hermione. "Are you with us?"

"Literally, I am," she answered hesitantly. "But as for this trick…"

"We can get you some hot chocolate later downstairs to calm your nerves," James reassured.

Hermione still did not look convinced. "Do you think this is okay?"

Sirius hooted. "You're asking James? Of course it's freaking okay!"

James grinned boyishly and messed his hair up. "Sirius is right. It is perfectly fine with me."

"I guess I'll have to trust your judgment then," Hermione said. "I'm in."

"Terrific," James said, squeezing her hand.

Sirius instructed Peter to retrieve the bottles of Polyjuice Potion they'd stored in their dormitory, with Remus offering to help him. Once they had lugged the containers downstairs, along with the cloak and map, the five of them set about splitting the hairs and adding them in correct proportions to the volume of the potion within each bottle. The entire process took them only half an hour, and at exactly ten o'clock, they were ready to go.

"I don't think we'll all fit under the cloak," Remus commented. The truth was that he didn't want any part in this plan, not because he didn't feel like playing the joke on Severus, but because he simply wasn't in the mood. Whether it was still due to James and Hermione's extant closeness or to some other reason, he didn't know. He was pretty certain, however, that his resentfulness over the matter had somewhat faded. Time really had some power over such wounds.

"Yeah, that was what I was thinking too," Sirius said. "Well, obviously I have to go. James too, of course."

"And Regina as well," James added quickly, pretending not to notice his best friend's grimace.

"Fine," Sirius said dismissively. "There's room for another. Peter?"

"I'll go, if it's okay for Remus to be alone here." One swift from nod from him confirmed his approval.

James unfolded the Invisibility Cloak and showed it to Hermione. "This is an Invisibility Cloak," he explained, unmindful of the fact that she already knew what it was. "It's been handed down in my family for generations." He reached for the map and unfurled it as well, having every intention of also disclosing its existence.

Hermione heard warning bells sound off in her brain, and her eyes widened in apprehension. Before she could protest, James had already tapped it with wand, muttering, "I solemnly swear—"

"Could I do that myself?" Hermione interrupted, hoping her voice did not betray her worry.

James blinked, startled. "Sure," he said, handing it to her. "Do you know what it is?"

"A map?"

All of the Marauders' eyes were as round as saucers. "How could you possibly know that!" Peter exclaimed.

Hermione shrugged. "Didn't Sirius say we were going to use the cloak and the map?" she repeated, relieved that he had earlier given away their secret. "I've seen the cloak; obviously this parchment's the map." She really was getting good at worming her way out of tight situations.

"Oh." Peter looked abashed at her explanation. "Right."

She smiled kindly at him, fished for the wand in her pocket and tapped the map. "What am I supposed to say?" Hermione remembered to ask.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," James said.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" Hermione exclaimed, touching the map with a practiced hand. As she had known it would, lines outlining the interior of Hogwarts formed, along with bubbles that contained each of its occupants' name. Her eyes sought out the Gryffindor common room, and she saw, much to her consternation, her name along with the Marauders'. _Hermione Granger_, she read inside her head. She felt as though it had been so long since she last used it; she was almost afraid she had forgotten her real identity. _Hermione Granger._ Seeing it reminded her of whom she really was.

Realising that the four boys were awaiting her reaction, she hastily rearranged her features into that of awe. "Wow," she breathed. She traced her finger along the secret passages that were on the map and said, "How did you manage to discover all these?"

Peter was grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, we did a lot of exploring," he said. "I reckon nobody else knows Hogwarts as much as we do."

"We're wasting time," Sirius informed them. He took the cloak from James and motioned for the others to go under it. He was about to retrieve the map from Hermione as well, but she refused to give it to him.

"Could I just hold on to this?" she requested. "I promise I'll be on the lookout."

Sirius shrugged. "Okay. I'm sure you'll do an excellent job anyway." He had not exactly meant it as a compliment, but he hoped she saw it that way, or James would be on his case once more.

When the four of them were set, Peter looked one more time at Remus, who looked peculiarly forlorn. "Are you sure you're going to be fine?"

Remus nodded. "Go ahead. I'll be waiting here." With the faintest of smiles, he added, "I'll tell the Fat Lady to wait for you."

The four of them climbed out of the portrait hole and trudged their way down to the kitchens, stopping occasionally to allow Hermione to check if anybody was within the vicinity. As soon as they reached the door to the kitchens, James, being the tallest among them, tickled the pear that hung high above. The door opened, and the soft melody of chimes welcomed them as they stepped inside.

A multitude of wide, orb-like eyes were staring in their direction, some of them fearful. Sirius realised that they were still under the cloak and pulled it off them, causing the house-elves to gasp. Some had even scurried under the tables to hide. Sirius nudged James in the ribs.

James stepped forward, causing the house-elves to take one step backward. "Hello," he said uncertainly.

It took several moments before one of them spoke. "Mr. Potter!"

James smiled disarmingly at the female house-elf. "Hello, Tinky," he greeted, remembering her name in the nick of time. "How have you been?"

"Well enough, sir," Tinky answered in the same high-pitched voice. Her eyes shifted to his companions. "Ah! Where's gentle Mr. Lupin? And who is the girl?"

Hermione, who had always been fond of house-elves, approached Tinky and offered her hand. "Regina. My name's Regina."

Tinky's eyes widened even more, suddenly looking watery. "Mr. Potter's friends are as great as he is!"

James turned to her, admiring how easily she had gained Tinky's respect. He met her eyes and gave her a smile, which she returned.

The house-elf shook Hermione's hand, her own trembling, and then shifted her attention back to James. "What can we do for you, sir?"

He could have lied, but James didn't want to. As simply as possible, he explained their reason for going there so late in the night.

"Slytherin's punch bowl, eh? Where we prepare their morning pumpkin juice?" Tinky repeated with a knowing look. As a servant of Hogwarts, she shouldn't be taking any sides, but she had always had maternal affection for these Gryffindors. She discreetly pointed a bony finger towards one at the far end, hoping her tattletale fellow house-elves would not see. "There, there," she whispered. "See the one laced with green leaves?"

James smiled down gratefully at her. "Thanks a lot, Tinky." He glanced at Sirius and Peter and nodded his assent, and the two of them sauntered over to where the bowl was. Hermione remained by his side, staring at the clock that hung on the wall. She was wary of how long they had been roaming the school out of hours.

"It is nothing, sir," Tinky said. "Is there anything else?"

"I'd like two cups of hot chocolate, if it isn't any trouble," James replied.

Tinky shook her bald head vehemently. "Oh, no, sir! No, not at all." At once, she scurried about preparing James's request. She had to make sure it was going to be the best hot chocolate he had ever tasted!

While she was doing so, James was observing Peter and Sirius from afar as they emptied the bottles of potion into the prepared drink. It had turned into a garish shade of brown from its original orange colour. He frowned, hoping Sirius would remember to perform a simple Concealing Charm on it. He was not disappointed.

"There you go, Mr. Potter," Tinky said, handing him two cups of hot chocolate on a silver tray just as Sirius and Peter walked towards them. James thanked her and tapped Hermione on the shoulder, who was still gazing at the clock.

She started, her face lighting up when she saw the drink he was offering. "Thanks." Hermione brought it to her nose and inhaled the sweet aroma; she could almost taste its strong flavour. "Thanks, Tinky. It looks delicious."

"Miss Regina is too kind," Tinky said, bowing.

"I am very grateful for your assistance tonight, Tinky," James said when Sirius and Peter reached them.

"Don't mention it, sir. Tinky loves having you and your friends down here especially since it has been awhile. Maybe Mr. Lupin could make it next time?" Tinky said hopefully, peering up at him.

"I'll tell him that; don't worry. Good night!" he said, glancing and waving at the other house-elves as well.

They sailed out the door, which automatically closed behind them, and fit themselves under the cloak. James took Hermione's cup from her so she could hold the map better. Their precautions served them well because they were able to manoeuvre their route so that they could avoid Filch lurking around a corridor.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked listlessly when they had successfully woken her up.

"Canis Major," Sirius answered. The door swung open at once, and they all entered it, finding Remus with a book.

He looked up at them in surprise and then at the clock. "That was fast."

"We practically had no trouble with the house-elves," Peter explained.

"Yeah, James was as charming as usual," Sirius cracked, flopping down on the couch next to Remus.

"Shut up," James muttered, setting the two cups of hot chocolate down on the glass centre table. He took his seat on an armchair, and Hermione did on one opposite his.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "So you went ahead with the hot chocolate plan?" he enquired wryly.

James shrugged. "Kind of, but we told the house-elves the truth. By the way, Tinky asked for you."

"She misses you," Sirius said in a false, sweet voice, causing all of them to laugh.

Remus shook his head in amusement. "Well, it seems like my powers of attraction can only get as far," he joked, wondering if there wasn't any bitterness underlying his words. "I'm tired," he announced before anybody could react. "I'm going to bed."

"I am, too," Sirius said, yawning and stretching his arms over his head as he stood up. "Good night."

Peter jumped up as well, taking his friends' lead. On the foot of the stairs, however, he glanced back at James and Hermione, who had remained seated. "Aren't you going yet?"

"We'll just have a nightcap, Wormtail," James said. "Night."

Peter smiled meaningfully at James. "Have fun. Good night." His eyes flicked over to Regina. "Night, Regina."

James waited until the sound of Peter's footsteps had disappeared before turning to Hermione. His fingers were suddenly clammy at the realisation that they were alone again. "Well, I guess we should drink this before it gets really cold."

Hermione smiled. "I suppose we should." She stood up and sat on the long couch that had been previously occupied, the one that was nearer her cup of chocolate—and well, the one also closer to James. She lifted her cup to her lips and tasted it, closing her eyes briefly at its satisfying taste. "Mmm. This is incredible." She put it down and looked at James. "You know, I was really impressed with what you did down there."

"With what exactly?" He grinned at her. "Come on, you can tell me. I've heard it all before."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him before laughing. "You arrogant jerk."

"Just last Sunday you told me I was sweet," James protested.

"Things change," Hermione said smugly.

James shrugged. "They should. The world would be in a sorry state if they did not." He took another sip of chocolate and said, "By the way, a lot of things have been happening that I've neglected asking you how you're finding Hogwarts so far." Hermione made a face, and he added, "I know, I know. It's kind of late, but well…"

"I've never felt more at home," Hermione answered truthfully. She couldn't very well say that he was the reason, so she explained, "The subjects are challenging, the people are warm—"

"Sirius is _warm_?"

Hermione laughed. "Not really, but you more than make up for it. Thanks for sticking up for me a while ago."

James self-consciously pushed his glasses up his nose. "It was no trouble. He does get out of hand sometimes." At her arched eyebrows, he grinned and amended, "Well, okay. Maybe most of the time. But he's a great guy, really."

"Most girls in this school think so anyway," Hermione said. She had noticed that in the weeks she had spent at Hogwarts. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the map, which was still open for anyone to read. "How do I turn this blank?"

"Just tap it and say _mischief managed_," James said, watching her as she followed his instructions and handed it back to him.

"You sure do have a lot of tricks up your sleeve," Hermione noted, thinking of the cloak and the map.

James smirked. "We have a lot more than that, you know," he said. "I'll reveal them to you in time."

"Oh, I am just dying of suspense," Hermione replied drolly. She gestured towards their drinks. "We've been neglecting Tinky's concoction."

"I'd rather talk to you," James responded instinctively, causing Hermione to stop in the middle of raising her cup for another gulp. "I mean—well—you are remarkably easy to talk to, Regina."

Hermione drained half of her cup before answering, her face slightly pink. "Thanks. I'd like to think you really mean that."

"I do," James confirmed, his voice lower than usual. She didn't say anything and started playing with her fingers. "Hey," he said.

She looked up at him, nervously awaiting his next words. "Yes, James?"

The breathy way she said his name distracted him from what he was supposed to say. Merlin, it stirred feelings of longing inside him. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "I like the way you say my name," he said instead, his voice tinged with wonder.

Hermione continued staring at him, her calm exterior belying the storm of emotions raging inside her. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it might explode.

James bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. "I'm sorry," James apologised. "I am making you uncomfortable, am I not?"

She smiled faintly, not knowing how to answer. "I guess we should say goodnight then."

James swallowed hard. "Right." He drained the last from his cup and stood up. Hermione followed suit, and he accompanied her to the foot of the stairs to the girls' dormitory. They were standing so close to each other, he could almost see the way each of her lashes curved, the gentle slope of her nose, her flushed cheeks… He was reminded of that moment between them last Sunday, and he wanted so badly to tenderly cup her face and kiss her. But he steeled himself against his impulse; he did not have any right to do what he desired. The words he'd spoken to Sirius came back. _She is too special_. And at that place and time, he vowed to himself that he was going to do everything right with her.

"Good night, Regina."

Even without them touching, Hermione could feel the electricity between them. She could see the passion in his eyes and couldn't believe it was finally directed at her. "Good night, James." _I love you._

James watched her climb up the stairs, committing everything about her to memory. Before she disappeared into her dormitory, she turned back and smiled at him, her curls billowing behind her. He smiled, and long after she had gone, he was still standing there, still smiling.

It was truly a wonderful world.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Just wanted to say that in this chapter, Lily believes that it's James getting over her that makes her want to bite his head off. She doesn't want to acknowledge that she does like James, even just a little. I know a lot of you hate Lily now, but I assure you, you're going to hate everybody in this story at least once. Haha. After all, nobody is purely good or bad. In real life, that's what makes judging morality so difficult. :) 


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **And so finally I have gotten to writing in between running a college paper, editing a yearbook, managing an organisation's finances, creating a transgenic plant for my thesis and slugging through my academics. Haha. My busy schedule is actually just an excuse for the fact that I really have difficulty with writing happy scenes unless I'm really happy. So well… That's a clue. ;) Credit goes to my beta, Bobbey, who always painstakingly looks over every chapter. Without her, this story would be littered with inconsistencies. :)

**Chapter Summary: **Good things happen in dreams, but the best happens to those who wake up to make them come true.

* * *

**Chapter 16: In My Dreams**

_I can't wait till we're alone  
Somewhere quiet, on our own  
So we can fall the rest of the way.  
I know that before the night is through  
I'll be talking love to you  
Meaning every word I say.  
Last time I felt like this  
I was falling in love  
Falling and feeling  
I'd never fall in love again._

_--- Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman (The Last Time I Felt Like This) ---_

Severus sleepily entered the doors of the Great Hall on Friday morning, his long, black hair hanging limply down the sides of his face. He mechanically made his way to his place near the end of the Slytherin table, irritably ignoring the ruckus around him. Flopping down on the bench and still without looking at anybody, he asked the person sitting next to him to pass the plate of bacon.

"You, too?" his fellow Slytherin asked in surprise as he levitated the plate towards Severus.

He did not answer, not knowing the query was directed at him. Instead, he helped himself to the food on the table; in the midst of swallowing, he reached for his glass of pumpkin juice.

"Don't drink any more of that!" his companion exclaimed, slapping his hand and causing the drink to spill.

Severus slammed his glass down on the table and turned to glare at the one who had dared mess with him.

"What are you—"

He broke off, the fury smouldering in his eyes giving way to confusion. It was like looking into a mirror; he was staring back at his own face, his own pools of coals glaring at him with reproach.

"See, I told you! Someone spiked our morning juice with Polyjuice Potion!" Severus watched in fascination as his thick brows creased with worry. "What if I get stuck looking like old Snivelly for the rest of my life?"

Severus clenched his fists under the table as he struggled to keep his face impassive. _A dosage only lasts for an hour, you stupid, blabbering idiot._ He glanced around the Hall in anger. What he had originally taken as everyday noise had turned out to be an uproar brought about by the fact that the Slytherin table was peppered with exact clones of him. He glowered and turned back to his companion.

"Who did this?" he demanded.

"Nobody well-meaning, obviously," the other Slytherin drawled, his upper lip curling in a familiar sneer. "I don't imagine anyone sincerely wants to be that slimeball, do you?"

The unmistakably malicious glitter in his dark eyes gave him away as Regulus Black. Severus pressed his lips more tightly together and scornfully glared at the hordes of students laughing and pointing in their direction. Rage bubbled inside him. He glanced at the High Table, wanting to see how the Headmaster and the professors were dealing with the situation.

_Why am I not surprised?_ he thought bitterly as he watched them carry on with their breakfast as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. His eyes drifted towards the Gryffindor table, where most of the racket seemed to be coming from, and travelled down its length until they came to rest on the Marauders. They seemed to be just a little too quiet in the midst of such a commotion—until he saw Sirius waggle his eyebrows and smirk contentedly, his eyes flitting over to the Slytherins.

Peter and James shot another amused look at the many Snapes dotting the Great Hall, all of whom were livid with anger, and burst out laughing once more.

That did it.

Hardly without thinking, Severus drew his wand and flicked it in the Marauders' direction. _Levicorpus!_ He grinned evilly as he saw his enemies' laughter cease, Peter and Sirius now hanging upside-down in the air. The small, pudgy boy had squealed the moment the spell hit him and was now wearing an expression of fear, but Sirius had remained quite relaxed, the smile on his face almost matching that of the Slytherin's. He quickly aimed his wand at Severus, and in an instant, he too was suspended in the air by his ankles.

Severus scowled and sent a jet of red light careening towards the Gryffindor, who slightly twisted his body to avoid being hit.

"Is that the best you can do?" Sirius jeered, clearly enjoying the situation he was currently in.

"I'm surprised you still managed to identify me, Black," Severus retorted. "Had enough practice, I daresay."

Sirius rolled his eyes and snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Snape; it's more of your hair being unrivalled in its grease, if you don't know it yet. And now I believe it's time for some payback. _Engorgio!_"

The remarkable precision with which he directed his wand enabled him to hit Severus right on his hooked nose. It started swelling immediately, and an enraged Severus roared and slashed his wand through the air, causing Sirius to spin like a top. Students had turned their attention to this new disturbance, some of them screaming and shrieking in panic. Flashes of light were being exchanged by the two black-haired wizards. In the midst of all the chaos, Severus was dimly aware of footsteps closing in on him…

"_Finite Incantatem!_"

He felt his nose deflate and fell headfirst to the ground. Two echoing thuds a few feet from him meant that those arrogant Gryffindors had also, without warning, dropped to the floor. He quickly righted himself and saw Peter and Sirius trying to ease their discomfort by rubbing the top of their heads.

"Mr. Black! Mr. Snape! What is the meaning of all this?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply, her beady eyes shifting from Severus to the Marauders and back again.

"He started it," Sirius answered nonchalantly, jamming his hands into his pockets and jerking his head at the Slytherin. "We were having breakfast when he suddenly hoisted us—"

Severus' face contorted in resentment as he turned to the Headmaster. "They were the ones who put Polyjuice Potion in our table's drink, sir!" he interrupted.

Sirius wrinkled his nose in distaste and was about to say something when Professor McGonagall silenced him with a fierce look. Albus Dumbledore surveyed the boys intently for several moments before his blue eyes came to rest on Severus.

"Do you have any proof?"

The Slytherin exhaled in frustration. The Headmaster, as usual, showed every sign of favouring his precious little Gryffindors. "No, sir," he replied, trying to maintain a note of respect. "But I know it was them! I just know!"

Professor Dumbledore sighed and addressed Professor Flitwick, "Please summon any of the house-elves who can shed light on this matter." The tiny wizard nodded and scurried away to do as he was told.

"What's going on?" a female voice asked warily, breaking the stares of intense loathing being exchanged by the Marauders and Severus.

James turned abruptly at the sound of Hermione's voice and flashed a smile at her. "Morning."

Hermione sensed the air of animosity around her and did not answer; a quick glance at the Slytherin table confirmed her suspicions. She held back an urge to laugh and looked at James. Her eyes met his and saw the quick rise and fall of his eyebrows—an inconspicuous warning to remain quiet.

Professor Flitwick returned a couple of minutes later with a raggedly dressed house-elf—who was oddly taller than him—in tow. "Headmaster," he began, "this elf said Sirius Black and his friends visited the kitchens last night."

Sirius snorted in visible annoyance. "I always thought house-elves were a bunch of traitorous little—OW!" He broke off with a yelp of pain; Remus had just jabbed him painfully in the ribs.

"What did they do in the kitchen?" Dumbledore asked the elf kindly.

Luminous, orb-like eyes first glanced accusingly at Sirius before turning to the Headmaster. "They asks Tinky to point the Slytherin bowl, sir, and then they puts something in it. Lala doesn't know what they put there."

"That was supposed to be considered as evidence?" Sirius asked cockily. "Really, the justice system we have this days—"

Professor McGonagall was bristling both with uncontained shame and fury. "Detention, all of you," she pronounced harshly. Severus opened his mouth to protest, but she narrowed her eyes at him and said, "You too, Mr. Snape."

"But I—I didn't have anything to do with the potion!" he argued, his face etched in disbelief.

"You were involved in that nasty scuffle this morning, weren't you? Or was it one of your Polyjuiced clones?" Without waiting for an answer, the Deputy Headmistress continued, "Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin—to the hospital wing after dinner."

"Severus and Peter can help me sort the newly-delivered Potions ingredients," Professor Slughorn remarked, speaking for the first time. Peter's jaw dropped open, his features horrified. He shot a pleading look at his friends, all of whom were wearing expressions of mingled revulsion and pity.

"Mr. Potter, to the trophy room," Professor McGonagall ordered. "The caretaker will be overseeing your detention tonight."

"I have rounds, Professor," James reminded her. "I'm Head Boy."

"Precisely, Mr. Potter, why you shouldn't go about sneaking out in the middle of the night putting Polyjuice Potion in other people's drinks!" Professor McGonagall said, her terse voice nearly shrill.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I was there too, Professor."

Distracted and surprised, Professor McGonagall blinked a few times before uttering, "Miss Weisz!"

"No, she wasn't," James denied, throwing Hermione an annoyed glance.

"Yes, I was," Hermione countered. "You can ask the house-elves." At this, she turned to look at Lala. "I was there last night, wasn't I?"

The elf nodded dumbly, probably wondering why anybody would willingly seek detention despite being given the chance to get away.

Hermione turned back to Professor McGonagall. "I suppose I deserve detention too?"

Professor McGonagall sighed while Professor Dumbledore gave the merest half-smile. "Of course you do, Miss Weisz. Minerva, how do you suppose she can serve detention?"

"She can be with me," James suggested, his defiant features daring anyone to contradict him. "Dealing with Filch alone will be a nightmare."

Hermione and the rest of the Marauders broke into barely concealed smiles at his words.

"Very well, Miss Weisz. You'll be in detention with Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall conceded wearily.

"My rounds, Professor—"

Her lips thinned as she fixed him with her stern glare. "You will do your part of the rounds only after your detention, Mr. Potter. Is that clear?"

James was now wearing an expression sour enough to curdle milk.

"Well, now that has been settled," Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully, "you can all proceed to your first class. I don't think we can expect any more trouble today, am I right?"

Only small, irritable nods and hesitant grumbles of assent answered the Headmaster's question.

* * *

"I've never been in detention before," Hermione told James while buffing trophies later that evening. After a hurried dinner, they had rushed to the trophy room a quarter after seven, where Filch had ruthlessly tasked each of them with polishing five enormous plaques—without magic. It was already half past eight, and both of them were only on their third trophy. _At this rate, we're going to be here until ten o'clock._ The very idea made her want to drop in exhaustion.

"You mean you've never broken school rules before?" James asked, wetting his rag with additional wax.

Hermione shrugged. "I have, but mostly for noble purposes, so I don't end up being punished.

"You mean like battling a fourteen-feet troll?" James kidded.

"Something like that, yes," Hermione said seriously, scrubbing the trophy more vigorously.

James scrutinised her more carefully, noting her drooping eyes and pale cheeks. She did look tired. He grimaced and silently kicked himself for being so insensitive. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

"I volunteered myself for detention, James, just in case you had forgotten," Hermione replied.

"Yes, but I was the one who talked you into going with us."

"I was the one who allowed you to talk me into it," Hermione answered, speaking with finality. She blew dust particles away and smiled up at him. "I don't regret it, you know. It was worth the experience. Only..."

"Only what?" James asked, concerned.

Hermione glared at the gleaming silver cup she was holding. "Why do awards to Quidditch dunderheads have to be so big?"

"Hey, I'm Quidditch Captain!" James protested laughingly. "And I'm about the smartest person I know."

Hermione snorted. "Coming from you, that's not exactly high praise," she teased. "Thank Merlin tomorrow's a Saturday."

James laughed, knowing she wasn't really annoyed with him. "Do you want me to finish those for you?" he asked, gesturing to the two cups still in need of attention.

"Thanks for the offer, James, but you need enough energy for your rounds afterwards." Hermione stretched her aching arms and reached for the fourth trophy in line. "Besides, I'm almost done."

When Hermione wasn't looking, James discreetly pulled his wand out and waved it over the plaque he was holding. It was gleaming as new in an instant. He smiled in satisfaction just as Hermione turned to glance at him—and at the last piece of metal he was supposed to be working on.

"How did you do that so quickly?" she asked him suspiciously. Her eyes widened as realisation dawned on her. "Filch told us not to use magic!"

"And you're actually going to listen to what that old bat said?" James replied smartly.

Hermione bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from snapping. "But if we get another detention because of this—"

James laughed, trying to ease her worries. "We will not," he assured her, but the sceptical look remained on her face. "Look, Filch is a Squib. He cannot recognise magic any better than the walls of this room can." Without waiting for her consent, he waved his wand over the cups assigned to her and smiled. "There. That was easy, wasn't it?"

Footsteps approaching the room from outside quickly became audible; James quickly picked up his rag and motioned for Hermione to do the same. "Pretend you're hard at work," he whispered just as Filch entered the room and slammed the door behind him.

The cat perched on the caretaker's shoulder purred. "Finished yet?" Filch snarled, looking over the trophies they had been assigned to and inspecting them one by one. Hermione was holding her breath while she waited for his verdict; James, on the other hand, looked every bit as composed as he usually did. After fifteen minutes of suspicious scrutiny, Filch turned to them and said, quite disappointed, "You may go. Mind you don't go wandering around after hours anymore."

Hermione did not need to be told twice. She rushed out the door and quickly made her way to the Gryffindor tower, James on her heels. Only when she had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady did she look back at him.

"I thought you still had your rounds," Hermione said, slightly out of breath.

"I do," James affirmed. "I just wanted to make sure you got back here safe—not that I needed to, of course. The way you walked, anybody would think a manticore was after you." He smiled down at her, and Hermione felt her toes curl in a shiver. "Good night."

She had to swallow hard before answering. "Good night."

James waited until she had entered the portrait hole before once more descending the stairs to the Great Hall, a silly smile playing on his lips. He decided that he had to finish his rounds at once; he still had something more important to attend to. He hastily checked the corridors, classrooms and towers on the right side of the castle, the half he knew Lily had not bothered visiting tonight. Amazingly, he accomplished everything in just half an hour. He glanced at the gigantic clock on the wall and saw that it was almost ten o'clock. With a burst of speed, he hurried to the Hogwarts kitchens and tickled the pear so that the door would open.

The house-elves looked surprised to see him back so soon, especially after having just served detention.

"Mr. Potter, sir," Tinky squeaked as she approached him. "Tinky doesn't think you should be here; someone might tell the Headmaster again..." At these words, she threw a dirty look at Lala, who glared back.

He grinned easily at her. "Don't worry. I am not up to any trouble this time, Tinky. I just wanted two more cups of that splendid hot chocolate we had last night."

Tinky's eyes grew watery. "Sir liked it then?"

"Very much," James answered with a nod.

She broke into a toothless smile and immediately hustled about as she prepared the drinks James had requested. Within a minute, Tinky had already filled two cups with hot chocolate and had set them on a silver plate, which she readily handed to him. James's utterances of gratitude were waved away by the elf, and he was ushered outside with pleasant words of expectant return.

He would have dashed all the way up to Gryffindor tower if he weren't afraid the chocolate would spill, even though the tray had been levitated, so he climbed the stairs at an excruciatingly slow pace that tested his patience.

"Canis Major," he told the Fat Lady once he had reached it. The portrait swung open, and he climbed through it, followed by the silver plate. He immediately scanned the room, only to see his fellow Marauders huddled around a wizards' chess set. They looked up at him as he approached.

"What took you so long, Prongs?" Sirius enquired. "Not that I'm complaining, since I got to beat Moony several times in a row, but still."

"I did my rounds," he answered with a touch of impatience, not wanting to discuss his detention any further. If it wasn't for the company he was with, he would have felt like he had gotten the rougher end of the deal. His hazel eyes shifted from one friend to another. _Where is she?_ He glanced around the common room once more, as though the one he was seeking was waiting to pop out from behind one of the couches.

"Looking for someone?" Sirius asked slyly without looking up.

James blinked and sighed. He might as well ask them. "Have you seen Regina?"

"Last time I saw her, she was with you," Remus said, his lips turning up in a small smile as he realised the game Sirius was playing.

The bespectacled Marauder ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Why were they making it so difficult for him? "I know, but I still had my rounds, okay? She returned ahead of me—"

"She's already gone to bed," Peter finally answered properly, wincing while he watched Sirius' knight strike down Remus' pawn. "She said she was tired."

A flicker of annoyance passed over James's face. He took hold of the silver plate hovering in front of him and sat down beside Sirius, setting the tray a little abruptly on the table. The cups clattered, and some of the chocolate spilled.

"Hot chocolate?" Sirius commented with a raised brow before prodding his queen to safety. "Who's that for?"

"For me," James replied shortly, staring hard at the dark brown liquid that oddly resembled the colour of her eyes.

"Yeah?" Sirius teased, looking at his best friend carefully for the first time. "So why do you have two cups?"

"Because," James said emphatically, still without looking up, "I'm thirsty enough for two."

Remus smiled faintly at James's behaviour. "Why don't you start drinking then?"

James frowned. "I just decided that I don't feel like drinking now."

"Doesn't it taste good without her?" Peter asked innocently, causing James's frown to deepen.

"Come on, Prongs," Sirius prompted, laughing openly now. "Stop fooling around. We know the other cup was supposed to be for Regina."

"You sound so sure," James challenged.

Peter shook his head in mock despair at his friend's stubborn streak. "Tell us otherwise, then."

James pondered him for several moments before bursting into a laugh. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, you all got me. It was supposed to be for her." At the ridiculous wiggling of Sirius' eyebrows, he slapped him hard on the shoulders and said, "I was hoping we could share another nightcap, that's all."

"Why bother," Sirius asked, rubbing his suddenly sore muscles, "if you don't fancy her?"

James stopped laughing and fell quiet, a familiar, thoughtful expression on his face.

"There's something I don't get though," Sirius continued. "It's been, what—" He counted on his fingers. "It's only been three weeks since you decided you were finished with Lily, and now you're interested in someone else?" He crowed and returned his friend's slap on the shoulder. "I always knew you were a ladies' man like me."

Although Sirius did not know it, James had also been thinking along the same lines in an attempt to sort out what he was feeling for Regina. Everything seemed to be happening so fast, so soon...

"Does time matter?" Peter asked out of the blue, breaking James's train of thoughts.

"It does, in a way," Remus answered. "Some things, like friendships, grow stronger over time."

Peter toyed with a chess piece before saying, "I don't think one's appreciation of somebody would grow over time if that someone didn't like that somebody in the first place."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Would you mind rephrasing that more clearly?"

"In simpler terms," Peter complied, smiling now, "I think James should give Regina a shot."

"Three hundred and eightieth time lucky, you mean?" Sirius questioned sarcastically.

"She isn't Lily," Remus quietly said. "If the way things have been going is an indication of your chances with her, James, I'd say it's pretty good." A dull ache had started once more at the pit of his stomach, but he did his best to churn it out.

James still didn't look convinced. "But she's nice to everybody else, which doesn't make me any more special than the rest of you."

No matter how many times he chided that selfish part inside him, Remus somehow couldn't bring himself to say what Regina had admitted to him back in Hogsmeade. "Do you know, you look even more nervous with her than you ever did with Lily," he said instead, a wry smile on his face.

It wasn't the mention of Lily's name that startled him, but the implication of what his friend had just said. "I do?" James broke into a sheepish grin and scratched his head, staring into a distance. A powerful emotion, one he yet had to name, was rippling through him. "That's quite troubling, isn't it?" Unwittingly, he recalled the warmth he felt every time Regina looked at him with her soft eyes and whenever she touched him. Even now he could hear the compassion in her voice, the sweet, happy melody of her laughter ringing in his ears. Sirius was right. He cared for her a little too deeply, a little too much, a little too soon... The incessant pounding of his heart alarmed him. What in the name of Merlin was he supposed to do?

Remus let out a low chuckle, amused. "Judging from the smile on your face, James, I don't think it is."

* * *

Hermione put down the book she had spent reading the entire afternoon, stretched her arms over her head and yawned. It was Saturday afternoon; she had woken up rather late that morning and had missed breakfast. Still tired from last night's detention, she would have given anything for a cup of tea, but she decided that a trip to the library would be just as soothing.

She stood up and approached Madam Pince to check the book out, deciding to read the rest of it in the common room. She walked out of the library afterwards, and as she made her way back to the Gryffindor tower, she wondered where the Marauders—_James_—were. She had caught sight of Peter for only a few seconds earlier that day, who said something about her owing James a cup of hot chocolate. She had simply stared at him in bewilderment; he was grinning widely, so there had to be something funny about what he just said, but somehow she missed it. Hermione made her mind up to ask him about that later, when they returned from wherever they were at the moment. She assumed that the Marauders were somewhere out on the grounds, enjoying the little sunshine that peeked through the clouds. _Or maybe they're off hiding somewhere in the castle, plotting another doomed prank_, she thought wryly.

"Hot chocolate," Hermione told the Fat Lady once she reached it. There was that word again. _What's with hot chocolate?_ she asked herself as the portrait swung open, and she climbed inside, one hand clutching the book tightly. A quick scan of the common room confirmed that she was part of the minority of students who preferred the cosy shade to the rough outdoors. She sauntered over to a medium-sized pouf and plopped down on it, curling her legs under her and flipping the book open to where she left off.

"Hey, I haven't seen you in a while," a voice said from somewhere above her several minutes later.

Hermione looked up, startled, and was attempting to locate the person who had spoken when a sudden increase in weight at the right side of the beanbag she was sitting on tipped it to the side. She lost her balance and almost ended up sprawled on the floor, but a pair of strong arms caught her in time.

Flushed, annoyed and ready to snap, she looked up into the intruder's face. Her eyebrows jumped when she realised that it was James, his wet, messy hair sticking to his forehead. He looked like he just had a shower—and Merlin, he really was devastatingly handsome. Before she could say anything, however, he righted her and settled himself more comfortably on the cushion beside her, still without letting go of his arm around her shoulders.

"Sorry about that," James apologised, grinning at her.

She tried to smile, hoping that the heat rising on her cheeks wasn't too obvious. "It's fine. What was that you said?"

"I said I haven't seen you in a while," James repeated.

Hermione rolled her eyes even though she enjoyed hearing those words. "You saw me just last night," she said, tracing the edges of the book with her fingertips.

James shrugged and somehow, the movement pulled her closer to him. He smelled like freshly mown grass and soap and damp earth—a very masculine combination that awakened all her senses. "Yeah, but not today." He glanced at the book she was holding and asked, "Are you busy?"

"That depends," she replied, "on what you have in mind." Hermione wondered what new idea had struck him now.

"Nothing spectacular, really. Just a walk around."

"Really," Hermione said, unconvinced.

To her surprise, James suddenly looked hesitant. "Well, I wanted to show you something—something important to me. But if you're occupied with something else—"

Hermione smiled weakly, feeling herself melt under his gaze. "No, it's fine. I'll go with you," she interrupted. "Just let me tuck this book upstairs and get my cloak. It'll take just a minute."

"Okay," James said, finally releasing her and allowing her to stand up. "One minute."

She was back in less than that, slightly breathless from running up and down the stairs. They walked to the portrait hole and departed the common room together, James assisting Hermione as she clambered out.

"By the way, you owe me," James said while they were waiting for the staircase to change.

"Owe you what?" Hermione asked, confused. "Peter mentioned something about a cup of hot chocolate a while ago, but then I might have been too sleepy to understand it correctly."

James's face broke into a grin. "No, you heard it right. You owe me a cup of hot chocolate."

"And how in the world did that happen?" she questioned, still not understanding what he meant.

He pushed his glasses up his nose before answering. "I got you a cup of hot chocolate last night, after my rounds," he explained, carefully watching for her reaction. There was none yet. "I thought a nightcap would help relax you, but you were already asleep when I returned."

The corners of her mouth turned up in approval, her dimple making another appearance. "I didn't know you had something planned. Otherwise, I would have waited."

James bit his lower lip. "No—uh—the idea just cropped up."

"That was very thoughtful of you, nevertheless," Hermione asserted, beaming at him. "Thank you, James. I'll try to make it up to you sometime."

Embarrassed, he replied, "It's enough that you're with me now."

The way things were going, Hermione felt like she could smile forever. It was better than anything she had ever dreamed about. She didn't say anything more until they were out on the grounds, where other students were also milling around in groups. Everybody was with somebody, and she couldn't be any luckier to be with him. The apples of her cheeks grew more prominent as her smile widened.

She didn't know that James was watching her with the same happy expression on his face and was surprised when he prompted, "What are you smiling about?"

Hermione let out a breath and said sheepishly, while nodding at the sky, "It's such a wonderful day. Not too hot, and not too cold either. Don't you think so?"

"If you say so," James answered lightly with a little laugh. He took Hermione's hand and steered her towards the path to the lake.

"Where are we really going, James?"

"You'll see," James said, continuing to lead her by the hand until they stopped under the shade of a beech tree near the lake.

Mesmerised, Hermione stared at the way the sun's rays glinted off the surface of the water, making it shimmer. She looked up and around her and recognised exactly where she was. "Oh, I remember Harry, Ron and I sitting right under this tree in third year—"

James had loosened his hold on her, his face frozen. "Harry and Ron?" he repeated. "Who are they?"

Realising her blunder, she licked her suddenly dry lips while she sued for time. "They were—_are_—my friends. We had a tree just like this—"

"From your old school?"

Hermione nodded, wondering why James's voice had become subdued.

"Just friends?" he reiterated softly.

She locked gazes with him and knew that this time, she would have to give him a less than truthful answer. "Yes."

His face visibly brightened afterwards. "Do they still owl you?"

A sad look crossed her face. "No, not anymore."

"Why not?" James demanded in shocked, his features darkening once more. "What kind of friends are they anyway?"

"I kind of left abruptly, James," she explained. "Maybe they never forgave me for it." _Maybe they never will._

_But real friends are supposed to understand no matter what._ Nevertheless, James did not speak this thought aloud; instead, he smiled and squeezed her hand. "Never mind them. You still have us."

Hermione let out a small laugh. "Yeah, that's quite a consolation. So why are we here?" she asked, her eyes roving the place once more.

James swept his arm around and impressively pronounced, "This, Regina, is my personal space at Hogwarts."

"Personal space?"

"Yes. This is where I go to when I need some time for myself, some time to think. Even James Potter needs to be invisible sometimes," he finished with a wink, making Hermione giggle. He picked up a rock, withdrew his wand from his robes and Transfigured it to a small blanket, which he laid on the ground. He sat down and motioned for her to do the same. "I find this environment conducive for my musings. It's just so… so peaceful here, I feel like nothing can trouble me."

Hermione played with the blades of grass while pondering this new side of him that she was suddenly privy to. "I'm surprised you can still manage to keep some quiet even with the other Marauders around."

James frowned pensively. "They don't really know this place. Or maybe they know, but they don't come here. Not with me anyway." He tilted his head to one side as he looked tenderly at her, his heart hammering out of control. "You're the only person I've ever brought here." He inched closer and tucked a stray tendril of her hair behind one ear. "You're the only person I'd ever want to bring here."

His fingers travelled to under her chin, gently cupping it. For a moment, Hermione thought he was finally going to kiss her, and she almost closed her eyes in anticipation. After a few seconds of staring intensely at her, however, his hand slowly left her face and came to rest on the blanket, where it clenched a fistful of cloth. Disappointed, Hermione leaned back against the trunk of the tree and waited for him to speak again.

Silence passed comfortably between them for several minutes before James turned to her with a more casual expression on his face. "Did I tell you we have a game against Hufflepuff next Saturday?"

Hermione was jolted out of her thoughts at the sudden change in topic. "You just did," she replied dazedly.

James laughed at her remark. "It was why we resumed practice a while ago." He reached into his robes once more and this time took out a small golden ball with fluttering wings. He began playing with the Snitch before asking, "Do you like Quidditch?"

"As a spectator, yes," Hermione said. "Where did you get the Snitch?"

"Nicked it in fifth year," he said, a trace of a smirk on his handsome features. "Would you like to watch us during practice?"

She frowned slightly. "What am I supposed to do there, hanging around the stands?"

"A lot," James teased. "You can cheer for me, take pictures…"

Hermione laughed, their moment of intimacy almost forgotten. "You're so full of yourself, James Potter. What makes you think I'd rather watch you race around on a stupid broomstick than read a book?"

"Stupid broomstick, huh? One of these days you're going to change your mind about that." His grin widened. "Come on. Just once." He wouldn't let her say no to him, not after a plan had begun to take form inside his head.

"Fine, fine," Hermione consented, sighing in mock resignation. "But it'll have to wait until Friday."

James nodded cheerfully. "Friday's even better, actually."

"I'm going to bring a book, James, just in case I get bored," Hermione ribbed.

"Suit yourself," he answered nonchalantly. "You'll just end up ignoring it anyway."

They continued making fun of each other while watching the sun disappear into the horizon. The moment it had, however, Hermione exhaled in dissatisfaction. James turned to her curiously.

"What was that lonely sound for?"

She smiled wistfully. "People say green sparks always shoot out of the sky just before the sun sets. I was looking forward to experiencing it firsthand."

James watched the fading light dimly illuminate her thoughtful face. _So lovely._ Feeling a little braver now, he sealed the distance between them and wrapped his arm around her waist. She automatically leaned back against his chest, the sensation triggering a flurry of strong emotions inside him. When he spoke, it was with a voice low and intimate. "Really? Personally, I don't need fireworks to make this day special."

She felt like her heart would burst from so much love for this man. Was it really possible that he felt the same way about her? Hermione nervously reached for his other hand and tentatively intertwined her fingers with his before looking up at him. "Thanks," she whispered, her eyes unaccountably misty.

He sensed the question in her eyes, smiled—the most tender, most wonderful smile—and stroked her fingers reassuringly. With the warmth from her soft touch, the enchanting scent of vanilla that filled his nostrils and her body curled contentedly by his side, James was ready to ask time to freeze for eternity.

* * *

The week passed in a blur, in Hermione's opinion. She was with James almost every waking moment every day of the week, except when he went off to Quidditch practice in the afternoons. She, in turn, retreated to the solitude of the library during those hours, reading while unconsciously fiddling with the hourglass that hung around her neck. She left the library only when it was time for dinner, where she rejoined the Marauders in the Great Hall. James also left them afterwards for his nightly rounds with Lily—a fact Hermione had ceased to be jealous about since every time he returned to the common room, he always brought two cups of hot chocolate with him. He did that every night of the week except Tuesday, and Hermione realised that it had been due to the full moon. James had not offered her any explanation as to why the Marauders roamed out of hours during that time of the month, and she had not asked, despite wondering what help such rashness could give a friend in the middle of a werewolf transformation. Nevertheless, Hermione had learned to look forward to these nightcaps, when the two of them would just sit by the fire and drink and talk before saying goodnight. Not once, however, did James speak about anything that was going on between them—if there was any, of course.

Now it was Friday, and just like she had promised, she was sitting high upon the bleachers on the Quidditch pitch and attempting to read a book she had brought with her. James, however, had been correct in saying that she wouldn't find a moment to spare for it. Her attention had been spent on the Gryffindor team as they zoomed around in a blur of red and gold, slowing down only whenever James called for a huddle to discuss tactics or set new plays. It also didn't help that she couldn't keep her eyes off him gracefully riding the wind as though he possessed it. Even from thirty feet below, Hermione could hear him laugh; it seemed like he was at his happiest up there. Smiling to herself, she opened the book and half-heartedly started flipping through its pages.

After only an hour and a half of practice, the team coasted back down to the ground. She looked on in surprise as they gathered together one last time before heading to the locker room.

"See you later, Potter!" Hermione heard a younger boy, one of the Beaters, shout before running after the rest of his team mates. James waved at him before mounting his broom once more. She pretended to be absorbed in what she was reading while he flew towards her.

"Don't bother faking, Regina," James wisecracked when he was hovering in front of air.

Hermione looked up at him, an impish smile on her face, and closed the book. He could always see through her. "Why was practice today so short? It's still an hour before dinner."

"I wanted to have the pitch to myself. I was going to fly," James answered, messing up his hair and grinning as though he was enjoying a private joke.

"As if you aren't flying already," Hermione quipped. "Go ahead, then. I'll wait for you here," she added, returning her attention to the text in her hands.

James shook his head. "Not without you."

She dropped the book in surprise. "What—what do you mean?" she stammered.

"I want you to fly with me."

Memories of that night with him in her time flooded Hermione's mind; she was suddenly enveloped in a tingling, pleasant warmth and couldn't help but sigh in reminiscence. She nodded her assent. "Okay."

James himself appeared to be taken aback at her quick, positive response, judging from the crease between his brows. "Aren't you scared?"

She tossed her head back and laughed. "Why should I be scared? You're going to be with me, right?"

His face relaxed. "Right." He extended one hand to her; she shyly laid hers on it, showing her complete trust in him. James helped her up on his broom and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in fear as James kicked his feet off the ground. Her muscles tensed; she really couldn't deny her aversion to flying. He must've felt it, however, for he held her more tightly to him and whispered into her ear the same words she had heard before. "Just lean back against me, keep your grip on the handle and open your eyes. I'm with you, remember?"

She nodded and did as she was told, feeling him rest his lips on her tresses. She shivered despite the balmy afternoon.

Slowly and lazily, James manoeuvred his Nimbus around the towers of the castle, his other hand continually supporting her.

"Is this your first time up in the air?" he asked as they glided above the Astronomy Tower.

"Does it matter?"

James gave a small laugh. "No," he breathed into her hair. _I don't care where you came from or who you were with before. It's me you're with now, and that's all that matters._ He possessively fingered her brown curls and was aware of the tremors that coursed through her at his touch.

They soared higher and then slowed to a halt in a location prime for observing the dramatic day's end.

"Even without the green sparks, the sunset would still be beautiful," Hermione murmured spontaneously, her voice dreamy. "It brings about the night so that things concealed by the brightness of the sun may be revealed."

"You mean people share their secrets during the night?"

"Possibly," she replied softly. In her time, she had come to associate James with the night. He was the deepest, most desperate desire of her heart, rivalled only in mystery by the dark, and as unattainable as the only source of light that shone from above.

"I guess I should share one of mine with you then," James said as he guided the broom back to earth.

Hermione was glad he couldn't see the furious blush on her face. Was he finally going to say something about them, about how he felt about her? "Go on. What is it?"

"I—uh—" James cleared his throat. "I'm hungry," he finished determinedly. Her heart dropped in disappointment. "Let's get back to the castle. It must be time for dinner."

_Why is he doing this to me, drawing me to him and yet careful not to let me get too close? What does he really want?_ Hermione was so lost in her dismal thoughts that she didn't notice where they had landed.

In spite of James assisting her off his broom, she stumbled over a boulder the moment her foot landed on the ground. Again, he was there to save her from her fall and to keep her stable. She looked around self-consciously and saw that they were under the—_his_—beech tree by the lake.

"You're quite uncoordinated, did you know?" James said amusedly.

She looked back at him, mild annoyance evident on her face. "That's why I don't play Quidditch," she replied haughtily, turning her face away.

James wasn't listening, intrigued by the blaze in her eyes that he seldom saw. That was just one of the many remarkable things about Regina: she was cloud and rock, fire and ice, sun and rain all the same time.

"Regina," he started, wanting so badly to tell her a lot of things but not knowing where to begin.

Hermione tilted her head to face him and stared into his eyes, her own darkened with hope and wariness. He was returning her gaze with so much intensity—so much undeclared passion—that she dared not breathe yet. _Please, let this be it._

Her breath totally caught in her throat when he leaned towards her and touched his lips to hers. Tenderly, innocently. She closed her eyes, swept away on a wave of emotion. James withdrew a few millimetres from her, and her eyes fluttered open. He cupped her right cheek in his large hand and caressed it reverently.

"I love you, Regina Weisz."

His own words, husky with passion, shocked him. He had never claimed to be in love with anybody before, not even with Lily. He might not know much, but there was no mistaking this emotion he felt for and with her. He loved this incredible woman he was holding in his arms right now, and he fervently prayed she would want to stay there forever.

James glanced apprehensively at her. What he saw made him swallow hard, his knees almost buckling with relief. She was his, he knew it. The light of wonder and realisation in her eyes was more eloquent than any word she might have spoken.

A hint of a smile played on her lips. She stood on tiptoes, entwined her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. _Regina Weisz_. Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or cry. _He doesn't even know my name. He told me he loved me, but he doesn't really know who I am._ Somehow, though, it didn't matter anymore because he was hers now—that much was certain. He was finally hers.

The kiss ended, and Hermione felt like she had just awakened from one delicious dream only to slip into another as she traced her finger along the contours of his strong jaw. She had wanted to do this for so long.

"And I love you, James Potter."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** The beech tree by the lake was referenced to in OOTP (_Snape's Worst Memory_). By the way, I started this chapter in Snape's POV as a tribute to the man he turned out to be in _Deathly Hallows_. If you haven't yet, please do check out the two one-shots I've written after DH. :) I also want to thank those who keep reading this story—which, I'm so happy to say, is a finalist in HPFF's Dobby Awards for Best AU—as well as asking me to update, but I guess I won't be posting the next chapter until the last week of August. Oh, and feel free to visit my Meet the Author page on the HPFF Forums:)

I also want to apologise for the time it took to get James and Hermione together. I had hoped it would make everything more realistic. That being said, I also plan to devote three to four chapters about their relationship, which I believe would provide depth to the later chapters. I hope you don't get impatient with them. Haha. Anyway, if you do, you can always tell me. wink, wink Until next chapter:)


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **I started working on this earlier than I had planned because school had been suspended due to two storms for several days now; my exams had been postponed only to pile up next week, but I'll worry about them another time. Haha. I had trouble writing the romantic parts of this chapter because I was trying to prevent them from becoming cliché—and well, I hope I've succeeded. ;)

**Chapter Summary: **Whenever he needed someone, she had always been around, always been there to see him through. But now she was more than a friend, even more than a best friend, because he was in love with her… and he had to let her know.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Friends in Love**

_Say goodbye  
When I can barely say goodnight?  
If I can hardly take my eyes from yours  
How far can I go?  
Walk away?  
The thought would never cross my mind.  
I couldn't turn my back on spring or fall  
Your smile least of all._

_--- Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman (I'll Never Say Goodbye) ---_

"Captain?" Neil Harris, the fourth-year Gryffindor Beater, prompted tentatively. "Don't you think it's time for your last-minute instructions?"

Distracted from his musings, James fumbled with the shoelaces on his right boot—he always put that on first for good luck—and glanced up at his teammate. "In a moment, Neil."

The younger boy nodded meekly and left James's corner of the locker room to join the rest of the team. James knotted the shoelaces of his right shoe, grabbed the left and put it on. He tied it up efficiently, his mind wandering back to wonderful night he had had. Unconsciously, his lips turned up in a smile as he remembered the intoxicating taste of her kiss, the silky texture of her hair even after he had entangled his fingers in it and the way she had given herself to him. Had they no need to return to the castle, he would have gone on kissing Regina Weisz forever.

They had entered the Great Hall for dinner with their hands clasped tightly together, their faces alight with joy. Nobody seemed to notice, but maybe that was for the best. James was afraid that if news of their relationship immediately spread, the bubble he was securely floating in would burst, and everything he had just discovered was his would suddenly disappear.

Not wanting to keep her waiting for him, he had hastened through his rounds after dinner. He just couldn't—wouldn't want to—miss out on whispering to her good night and sweet dreams and all the other things a guy should tell the girl he loved. Once they were together, however, very few words had been exchanged. There seemed to be no need for them to explain what each one really felt. Perhaps that was fine—but only for the moment. A good, long talk was definitely in order, and tonight, James would ensure that they had just that. He had to tell her exactly how much she meant to him, needed to know she still felt the same.

James bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from grinning too widely lest he end up coming across like a fool. The huge smile broke out on his face anyway. Who cared what he looked like? _She told me she loved me!_ He felt like he was already soaring through the clouds with the Snitch in his hand; he was so ecstatic that he wanted to jump as high as he could and pump his fist triumphantly into the air. But then again, even that couldn't really compare to this sheer bliss that infused every fibre of his being.

The ticking of a clock somewhere brought James back to earth and reminded him of the Quidditch match. The corners of his lips drooped slightly. He had not seen Regina at breakfast, even after he had sneaked another trip into the kitchen and had talked for some time with Tinky, so technically—excluding last night—she had not yet wished him good luck. He chanced another look at the clock and saw that there were still ten minutes left before the game started.

Impatiently, he kicked both his boots off and removed the cords laced through its holes. Once he had successfully done so, he leisurely began replacing the one on his right boot before slipping his foot into it. He lazily did the same to his left shoe, unmindful of the seconds ticking by. When he was finished, he checked the clock once more and let out a loud, disappointed sigh. The entire process took him the whole of seven minutes, and yet Regina was nowhere to be seen. _She's probably already on the stands_, he consoled himself, _getting ready to cheer for you_. The thought brightened his mood a little.

He finally stood up, brushed lint off his robes and grabbed his Nimbus. He sauntered over to his team, all of whom looked ready to do battle on the field.

"Finally!" Katherine Lyons exclaimed as he approached, rubbing her gloved hands together. She was a sixth year who played Chaser on the team. "We thought you were going to spend the rest of the morning sulking."

"Not when we've got some Hufflepuffs to beat up," James replied, recognising the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through him as thoughts of Regina were temporarily driven away from his head. "Now listen, all of you. Those Hufflepuff players, admittedly, aren't very good or fast when flying. Even so, they are not to be underestimated because together they make one hell of a team. They pass the Quaffle to each other with so much quickness and accuracy, allowing the ball to travel faster than their brooms."

George Everard, another Chaser, jokingly faked a yawn. He had heard this countless times before.

James took no heed of him. "You know what to do, how to trap them. Remember that position we've practiced? Beaters on either side of their usual triangle of Chasers. I'll try to—_no, I will_—get to the Snitch fast to end the game at once—"

The door to the locker room opened with a noisy, urgent creak. He broke off his monologue and irritably jerked his head backwards at the intrusion. "Just one more minute—"

_What a beautiful interloper._

Standing in the doorway with the sunlight fanning her like a halo was the angel he had kissed last night.

* * *

Hermione stared in shock when his features lit up in recognition and warm welcome. _Is it really me he's so happy to see?_ She glanced once over her shoulder and then back at him; his smile didn't slip an inch, resting all her doubts.

"Hello," she said uncertainly, standing in place. She had not expected to have to talk to him at once the moment she barged in the locker room.

"Hello," James replied, motionless as he gazed at her.

She stepped towards him, her eyes drowning in the depths of his hazel ones as he also stood up and advanced to meet her.

They stopped a couple of feet from each other, watching and waiting for the other to make the next move. James suddenly smiled widely, revealing his perfect set of teeth. Hermione blushed, running the tip of her tongue over her upper lip as though to savour the remnants of the kisses he'd ravished her with last night.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, still smiling. "Regina." Her name came out reverently, trembling slightly with emotion.

"James." She smiled and lowered her eyes momentarily before meeting his again. "I woke up late, but I wanted to see you first before the game."

"You must've had a good sleep, huh?" James teased cheekily, causing her to blush more deeply.

"Quite," Hermione indulged him. "That was one sweet dream I had."

"I assume it was of me?"

She shook her head, amused at his audacity. "No."

His expression at once darkened into a questioning scowl. "No?"

When had they blurred that line between friendship and romance; when had he learned to be jealous about her? "It was of the two of us," Hermione clarified, earning his smile back.

"You'll have to tell me about that sometime," James requested. "Make sure you describe it vividly."

Hermione put one finger to her lips and pretended to be in deep thought. "Wouldn't that be more difficult? Maybe it would be better if I just showed you."

James gaped at her for a moment, surprised at her sudden recklessness, before letting out a throaty laugh. "Well, whatever pleases you, of course."

"Potter, as much as we enjoy the show you're putting on for us, we have a game to attend," Katherine demanded imperiously a few feet behind him. "Unless you prefer to give them a win by default?"

Hermione started as though she had forgotten there were other people around. She swallowed hard and flushed an even more furious shade of crimson. "Well, I guess I should leave. I'll be up in the stands, cheering for you." She gave him one last, lingering smile before swiftly turning to walk away.

James watched her step a few paces, her footsteps only lightly touching the ground. It was almost like she was literally floating on air. He smiled happily, understanding that he affected her as much as she did him. But then a thought unexpectedly hit him, and he called out, "Regina, we've both forgotten something."

She looked back, her head tilted in query. He closed the distance between them in two long strides and held her by her shoulders. She glanced down at his large hands and up at him.

"What is it?" she murmured.

He smiled amorously before bending low to whisper in her ear, "I love you."

It was as though a bucket of honey had been poured all over her, enveloping her in sweetness and warmth. Before she could respond, though, he drew back slightly and sealed her mouth with his. Reflexively, her eyes closed, and her lips parted to allow him access. He did not waste this opportunity, and dimly, Hermione wondered how he could kiss her unrestrainedly and yet make her feel chaste—cherished—at the same time.

James broke off and stared at her fluttering eyelids and glowing face. He enjoyed making her blush, thought it was charming of her.

Once she had focused her irises on him, she smiled and whispered, "I love you too, James."

He planted a brief, loving kiss on her forehead before pulling her to him, resting his chin atop her head. He didn't care that his whole Quidditch team was staring at the two of them, stunned into silence. Did he say that he wanted nobody to know about this? Merlin, he desired nothing more now than to tell the whole world they were together!

"We shouldn't forget again, should we?"

"I won't," Hermione promised, touched beyond words. She lifted her head, stood on tiptoes and brushed his lips with another kiss. She straightened herself afterwards and sighed, almost regretfully, "Now I really should get going. Good luck, James. I'll see you later."

James waited until she had left before turning to look at his teammates, all of whom seemed to have had their patience strained to the limit.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" he asked them exuberantly, running towards them and grabbing his broom. "Let's give them something to talk about!"

* * *

It had been an easy win.

Only five minutes had passed since the whistle that signalled the start of the match was blown, and already James Potter was clutching the Snitch in his right hand, the ball's wings fluttering helplessly in his tight grasp. He was smiling victoriously as he summoned his teammates in the air, and together they landed gracefully on the ground, James's hand still raised in a fist.

"What a show-off!" Sirius hollered over the roar of the Gryffindor fans. "He didn't even let either team score!"

"So much for practicing for a whole week," Remus replied laughingly, clapping his hands in delight.

"He just wanted to make a statement," Peter contributed thoughtfully, seemingly the only one who didn't look surprised at the game's finish. "Scare the Slytherins out of their wits for the final match, now that we're two hundred points up."

Hermione wasn't listening to all their comments about the game; she was too absorbed with the sight of James on the pitch, feeling the glow radiate from him. She watched him as he gave all his teammates and the Gryffindors who had jumped down from the stands high-fives. He looked every bit the winner that he was.

She was suddenly mindful of a warm hand resting on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Remus smiling gently at her. "We should get inside for the early lunch," he said. "And then party at the common room later."

Remus led her through the horde of students back inside castle, with her glancing back every once in a while at James, who was surrounded by his throng of admirers. Far from being jealous, however, Hermione felt proud and happy for him. As far as she was concerned, they could have all the time and attention they wanted with him now; she was confident she would have him all to herself later on anyway.

Hermione soon noticed the absence of the two other Marauders. "Where are Sirius and Peter?"

Remus' lips twitched before answering. "Oh, somewhere around Hogwarts, I'm sure," he answered, "preparing for the party."

"You mean like nicking food from the kitchens?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"I was thinking more along the lines of butterbeer," he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

She burst out laughing as she grasped his implication. "Do you always do that? Sneak out into Hogsmeade?"

"Just often," Remus answered in jest as they entered the castle. All around, he could hear people talking about James's spectacular game. He glanced at Regina and saw her beaming.

"Do you think James broke some record—fastest catch in Hogwarts history or something?" Hermione wondered, obviously aware of the conversations going on around her.

He shrugged noncommittally and took his place at the Gryffindor table. "Wouldn't surprise me if he did," he replied lightly.

She smiled contentedly and served herself lunch, realising how hungry she was after missing breakfast. For fifteen minutes, they simply ate in silence, until Hermione broke it by asking worriedly, "Won't James be having lunch?"

"He'll be fine," Remus assured her. "He's probably in the locker room, discussing the next game with the team. They always stay for about an hour, just talking about strategies and subsequent practice sessions. He'll be in the common room later."

Hermione nodded slowly, absorbing everything Remus had just told her. "Okay," she said, smiling serenely at him. Remus did not doubt for one moment that it was James she was thinking about.

After half an hour more of a very delicious meal, they both rose from the table and made their way up to the Gryffindor tower. Hermione was surprised to see the party already in full swing after clambering through the portrait hole. Still in their red-and-gold scarves, everybody was eating and drinking and laughing, and streamers that read _LIONS FOR THE CUP!_ had already been hung. Hermione smiled in reminiscence. Except for the lion's roar that resounded through the room every now and then, the common room looked the way it usually did on such occasions in her time.

"There you are!" Peter squealed happily as he and Sirius advanced towards them. He was clutching two untouched butterbeers in a hand and his own uncorked one in the other. He handed a bottle each to her and Remus. "Here, have a drink."

Despite having just eaten lunch, Hermione accepted it, twisted it open and took a swig. "Thanks."

"Where's Prongsie-boy? Where's our star player?" Sirius sang in a high-pitched voice as he scanned the common room.

Remus snickered. "Last time I checked, he could hardly move due to the mob that had closed in on him."

Sirius snorted. "Ah, yes, his fan club." His jaw dropped comically as he turned to Peter. "How come you're here then?"

"Eh?" Peter protested, sputtering on his butterbeer.

"And you?" Sirius asked, ignoring him and rounding in on Hermione. "Why aren't you with that gaggle of screaming girls demanding his autograph?"

Hermione eyed Sirius before answering coolly, "Because I don't need to clamour for his attention." Her crisp words and the faintest smug smile on her face shocked all three Marauders. "Now if you'll excuse me," she added, gratified at their reaction, "all this noise is too much for me. I'm going upstairs to read a book."

"I thought you were going to wait for James," Peter croaked, having only slightly recovered.

"Oh, I'll see him later," she said airily, inwardly laughing at the identical looks of stupefaction on their faces. With a dismissive nod, she turned on her heels and wove her way through the crowd to the stairs.

Sirius followed her with his eyes until she disappeared from his sight and frowned in disbelief. "James told her already?"

* * *

Hermione flopped down on her bed with a contented sigh and folded her arms behind her head, closing her eyes and allowing a dreamy smile to cross her lips. _James_. She breathed in deeply as his name echoed in her head, loving how it sounded. She grabbed one of her pillows and hugged it to herself in giddiness. _He loves me. I cannot believe it myself either, but he loves me!_ A while ago, while watching him on the pitch, Hermione wanted nothing more than to announce to the whole world how very much in love they were with each other—that he was hers and she was his.

Exhaling another satisfied sigh, she rolled over and reached for the book she had checked out the day before but had not had the chance to read yet. The motion caused something shiny to swing briefly along her line of vision. She traced her fingers along her collarbone until they came in contact with the smooth, cold surface of the hourglass that still hung around her neck. After pulling it over her head, she held it up in front of her, her elbows propping her on the bed.

_It really is a beauty_, Hermione thought as she saw the light from outside create dazzling patterns of rainbow colours within the glass. But her appreciation of this object went far deeper than that. For the first time since she arrived, she let her mind travel through everything she had been through to get where she was now. She stifled a sob, reminded of what her action had and would probably cost her and the people she cared for.

Hermione closed her eyes to hold back the tears; all she could see were a pair of hazel eyes gazing lovingly at her. She tightened her hold on the Time-Turner, as though afraid it would slip away and bring her along with it. She had to stiffen her resolve. No matter what the consequences were and would be, it would all be worth it, she was sure.

It had to be.

She pulled open the top drawer of the small bureau beside her bed and gently laid the Time-Turner down on the wooden surface. She wouldn't be needing it any longer. She was where she rightfully belonged now, sheltered in his love.

And she had every intention to stay, for it would be craziness to run away.

* * *

"Congratulations, James," he heard a male voice tell him, slapping him amicably on the shoulder. "Fantastic catch there."

"Thanks," James answered absently as he walked past his fellow Gryffindor, not bothering to see who he was. His eyes impatiently roved the common room, unsuccessfully seeking her out. He sighed in frustration. _Where is she? This should be as much her celebration as mine._ He had entered the common room to hearty cheers and shouts from the Gryffindors. As usual, everybody wanted to talk to him, to hear his personal take on the game that had to be the shortest in all the years of Hogwarts' existence. He had humoured them—he was in a very exuberant mood, after all—but it grew tiring after a while. It was almost an hour and a half before things had settled down enough for him to finally attempt to find her only to hear Sirius say that she had gone to her dormitory and had not come down since.

"Did she say why?" he had asked, receiving only a suspicious look as an answer. He rolled his eyes. Whatever was bugging his friends at the moment, it was something definitely not on top of his to-do list. He had to find her first.

He gnawed apprehensively at his lower lip. _Is she mad at me, jealous of all the people competing for my attention? _Despite himself, he grinned. Jealousy, as long as it was in the correct proportions, made a relationship healthy. His eyes fell on the clock above the fireplace, and he laughed aloud when he saw it splattered with what looked like pumpkin cake. _Rowdy Gryffindors, partying for more than three hours straight now.__Three hours?_ His realisation at the time—it was almost five o'clock—made him clench his fists in increased anxiety.

_If Regina doesn't come down this instant, my plan for tonight is going to be shot to pieces._

James stared hard at the stairs to the girls' dormitory, willing her to appear. She did not. Shaking his head in resignation, he walked towards it and was about to take the first step up when an icy cold voice drawled, "I wouldn't try that, Potter, if you don't want to be hexed senseless."

He whirled at the voice and saw Lily smirking at him. For all her beauty, he still couldn't understand why she exhausted so much time and effort frowning at him. "What do you mean?" he enquired evenly.

"There's a protective magical barrier that keeps guys from visiting our dormitory," Lily informed him, still glaring. "Elaborate charms designed to make sure toerags like you don't mess our upstairs."

"You're bluffing," James reacted sceptically.

She laughed derisively. "Go ahead then, why don't you? I for one would rather you do it so you can forever be out of my way."

That stung, but James refused to show it. She had hurt him enough. "Are you on your way up then?" he asked instead. "Could you ask Regina to meet me here?"

"You've really got unbelievable nerve," she replied scornfully. "I'm not an owl." With that, she passed him and marched up the stairs.

James frowned, not at Lily's attitude but at the loss of what to do.

"Good game, Captain," he heard another voice say. This time, he recognised it as Neil's.

"Yeah, thanks," James replied, his brain still whirring. _Wait a moment._ A thought struck him. "Neil! Hey!" he shouted, pulling him back by his arm to face him. "You have an owl, don't you?"

Neil tossed his hair out of his eyes and looked confusedly at him. "Er—yeah, why? You plan to use it as a Snitch or something?"

Distracted, James repeated, "A Snitch?"

"Well, my owl's small and golden yellow, and it has wings," the fourth-year elaborated with a shrug.

James shook his head in amusement and chuckled at his humour. "No, it's for something else. Listen…"

* * *

Something feathery soft tickled her nostrils and began flapping, but a disgruntled Hermione simply turned to the other side and hugged the book closer to her as she soundly slept on. And then she felt it again, that impatient flutter now hitting her eyes, determined to wake her up. She groaned and fumbled blindly for whatever it was in an attempt to put it out of her reach, but ended up swiping air. Sighing in frustration, she forcibly sat up in bed and groggily looked around.

Two roses, one in full bloom and the other a mere blossom, were lying next to her pillow beside a furry little ball.

_No, wait._ She blinked and scrutinised it more closely. The ball had eyes and wings; it was an owl.

Comprehension hit her, and she smiled sleepily. Trust James to always surprise her with his thoughtfulness. Hermione scooped the owl tenderly with two hands and stroked its feathers lovingly.

"Did James send you?" she asked, her voice croaky from sleep. The owl hooted softly and nipped her index finger affectionately. "Go down and find him again. I'll be there soon." She watched it beat its wings in anticipation of flight before taking off and sailing out the door.

The sweet smell of flowers beckoned to her, and she picked them up to savour their perfume. Why James had given her only two, she made up her mind she would ask later. She gently laid the roses back beside her pillow and hopped off the bed, rushing to the lavatory to tidy herself up.

As she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she stopped to take a closer look at her smiling reflection. She was incandescent, her eyes clear and sparkling and her complexion luminous. Hermione felt her cheeks with the palms of her hands; they were flushed and round and warm, betraying her excitement in seeing him again. _I feel beautiful. He makes me feel beautiful._

Four minutes later, she was on her way downstairs, clutching the leaf-adorned rose stems in one hand. The noise that greeted her made her feel somewhat disconcerted; how could anybody stand partying for several hours straight? Didn't they have anything better to do? She squeezed herself through the crowd in search for him.

"Excuse me; excuse me," she murmured, pushing off elbows and shoulders as she went about. "Excuse—"

Suddenly, one large hand was covering her eyes. Hermione jerked and tried to kick her attacker from behind, but an equally strong arm held her around her waist. She inhaled and prepared to scream, but stopped short when she recognised the familiar masculine scent tempting her to lean back against him.

"Guess," a husky voice teased, his breath blowing past her ear. She tried to tug at the hand over her eyes, but it wouldn't budge.

"James," Hermione said, already annoyed.

All at once, his hand lifted, and she spun around to tell him off.

He was grinning roguishly. "I would be disappointed if you had guessed otherwise."

And then he kissed her.

Taken aback, she automatically closed her eyes and pressed herself to him as her toes curled. There was nothing playful about him now; he was all about passion, and it consumed her. Nobody existed except the two of them; she could hear nothing but the crazy pounding of his heart as it beat in perfect sync with hers.

When he lifted his lips from hers, he whispered, "Finally. I've been wanting to do that for hours."

All words of indignation forgotten, Hermione reached up and pushed his messy hair away from his forehead. "I've been looking for you too. Congratulations, James. You were magnificent."

"Are you talking about the game or the kiss?"

She blushed. "Both."

James kissed her forehead before slightly loosening his hold on her so that she was able to stand firmly on her own. With her two feet planted on the ground, she was finally aware of the stunned silence and the gaping faces around them.

"I have something for you," he murmured, drawing her attention back to him.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot," Hermione replied. She showed him the flowers she held in one hand and thanked him.

He laughed. "No, not that," he said. "Those were just a ruse to wake you up. I had to use someone's owl to deliver them, did you know?" James took her hand in his. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Confused, Hermione followed him as he led her towards the portrait hole. She could still feel the burning, questioning eyes of their fellow Gryffindors, embarrassing and pleasing her at the same time. She supposed many of the girls were envious of her; what they wouldn't do to be in her place!

Just before they exited the castle, James turned to her and spoke. "To get your surprise, you'll have to trust me."

Hermione smiled. "That's easy."

He quirked one eyebrow. "Really? Even if I blindfold you and take you somewhere you don't know?" Her shoulders shifted, and he sensed her hesitation.

"Is this a joke?"

James gazed into her eyes with so much honesty that it was difficult to look away. "I've never been more serious."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at him. "Well, then, I'm in your hands." She watched as he produced a scarf from his pocket and walked behind her to drape it over her eyes. Without her vision, all her senses seemed to have sharpened. "James?"

She gasped as she was literally swept off her feet. "James, what's going on?"

"Relax," James said, hooking both of her arms around his neck as he cradled her like a baby. "I didn't know you would weigh this light."

Hermione heard the creaking of the door and felt the cold air on her skin. She took her cue from the chirping birds and his footsteps on the springy grass and knew that they were already outside. After ten minutes of walking, James stopped, and she presumed he was surveying the area. _What's happening?_

"Do you know where we are?" James asked, looking down into the peaceful face of the woman he was carrying in his arms. He saw her lick her lips and could almost imagine her eyes taking on that pensive expression, like she did whenever she was thinking.

"Yes," Hermione answered certainly after several moments. The soothing sound of water waves could have only come from the lake. "We're under the beech tree, in your spot."

James smiled at her perceptiveness. "Wrong," he stated simply.

Hermione snorted. "I know I'm right," she insisted. "I can hear the lake."

_What feistiness._ He grinned once more. "We're under the tree where I kissed you last night, Regina. Or have you forgotten already?" He dipped his head towards her and claimed her mouth once more, silencing her protests. "Just a reminder," he murmured against her lips afterwards.

Hermione struggled to speak through her breathlessness. "So I was right. We're in your spot."

James groaned. "So stubborn," he muttered. "No, love, we're in our spot."

"Like I said," Hermione argued, refusing to be swayed by his term of endearment, "we're in our—" She paused in mid-sentence, finally realising what he meant. "Oh. We're in _our_ spot," she repeated softly, a giddy smile curving her lips.

He did not miss that, and its sight delighted him. "Now it's time for your surprise," James said, setting her down on the ground without removing her arms around his neck. He lifted his hands to untie the cloth around her eyes, now wide with expectation.

Still in his embrace, she looked around and saw a tent erected a few feet away. Her features brightened, and she glanced back up at him. "What's inside?" she queried, excited and mystified.

Nodding towards it, James said, "Go and see."

Hermione disentangled herself from him and approached its entrance, James in her tracks. He rubbed his hands together both in anticipation and nervousness, all the while praying fervently, _Please, let her like it_.

She parted the curtains obscuring the tent's interior and gingerly stepped inside, wondering what awaited her.

"Merlin," Hermione breathed, enthralled by what she saw. For a moment, she stood immobile, her eyes roving the room. It had been set up like a camping cabin; a long couch was on the far side, three cushions were on the floor near her and a small wooden table prepared with a dinner for two occupied the space between. The only light inside came from the crackling flames in the fireplace; the air smelled strongly of strawberries, contributing to the romantic atmosphere.

James smiled to himself as he noted her reaction. "Like it?" he asked, enclosing his arms around her waist without waiting for an answer.

She tilted her head up at him and answered, her voice quivering, "I love it. Did you do all this?"

"I had help," James said, thinking of Tinky and the other eager house-elves who had acquiesced to his request early that morning. "But it's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

Hermione stroked the contours of his jaw before agreeing, "Of course. You never fail to catch me off guard, James." She drew him in for a brief kiss and then added, "Thank you."

Relaxed and satisfied at how his plan had gone so far, he remarked, "So you're not mad with me anymore?" At her confusion, he explained, "For not meeting you at once after the game?"

Again, she bit her lip as she considered what he said and leaned back against him. "Oh, yes. I'm still mad—."

"You are?" James asked in surprise. "But—"

"Maybe you should let me finish first," Hermione cut in, the lilt in her tone suggesting she was less than serious. He fell silent and waited. "What I was going to say was that I'm still mad..." She swivelled to face him again and locked her eyes with his.

"Madly in love with you," she concluded gently.

James stared at her for several long moments, as though allowing the full impact of what she had just said to sink in. Finally, his face broke into a huge smile, and he laughed heartily. He lifted her into the air in jubilation and swung her around, ignoring her shrieks of protest.

"You'll pay for that joke, Regina!" he exclaimed, relief and happiness sizzling through his veins at her words. He slung her easily over his shoulder even as she pounded his back, and walked to the couch, plopping her down afterwards.

She crossed her arms and glared at him, not caring that he towered over her. "It wasn't a joke. I meant that."

"I know you do," James replied, sitting beside her and reaching for her hand. "I'm mad with you too, did you know? Madly in love with you." He cupped her face in one large hand and kissed her, gently at first and then with more intensity. At this point, her hands had already found their way to his back, coming to rest on his nape and urging him closer to her. He complied by deepening his invasion of her sweet mouth, feeling her melt in the same way she made him boneless, moulding her tightly to him for support.

He ended it slowly, wanting to cherish as much of this experience as he could, knowing each kiss they shared would be different every time. His face hovered a few millimetres from hers, and he dotted her partially closed eyelids with butterflies. She sighed, and he chuckled at this. "You talk tough, Regina, but you're very, very soft."

She opened her eyes and stared at him reproachfully, but her disapproving expression dissolved into serenity when she saw him smiling. With her, he could always get away with anything. "Trust me; I wouldn't be this way with anybody else."

"Glad to hear that," James said, a hint of pride in his voice. He stood and held out a hand to help her up. "Time for dinner."

Hermione laughed as she took it and smoothed down her robes. "Have you got everything planned tonight?"

James smirked. "You bet."

"What's after dinner then?"

"Now, now," he chided lightheartedly as they ambled towards the table. "We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would we?" James pulled out Hermione's seat for her on the side of the table nearer the cabin entrance and then sat on his at the opposite end. Just after a split second, however, he jumped up and dragged his chair to where she was.

Astonished, Hermione asked, "What did you do that for?"

"I don't think I'll ever understand why it's supposed to be romantic sitting opposite someone you love, especially when you can sit beside her," James rationalised. "I mean, how else can I serve you food," he added, scooping some of the pasta on her plate, "pour you a drink," he continued, ladling punch into her goblet, "and feed you?" he finished, spearing a meatball and bringing it up to her mouth.

Choking with laughter at his antics, Hermione slapped his hand playfully before biting into the food he offered. She concentrated on chewing and swallowing it before James could come up with something that would make her double up once more.

"Juice?" he proffered tantalisingly, raising the goblet to her lips. She smiled appreciatively and took a sip, finally washing down what she had eaten.

"My turn now," Hermione asserted, twirling the pasta around her fork and feeding it to James, who exaggerated his chomping, leading her to another round of giggles.

"It tastes so much better when I eat it this way," James said, playing with Hermione's hair as she gathered a second ball of pasta to give him. He accepted it, took a swig of juice and exhaled contentedly. "A guy could definitely get used to this."

Hermione laughed and ruffled his hair. "Don't you think you're forgetting my share?"

He sat up straighter in his chair, and soon enough, they were taking turns feeding each other pasta, chicken, and even the chocolate pudding that was their dessert, the whole affair interspersed with banter and sweet nothings. Once, James had missed and swiped the spoon accidentally along the corners of Hermione's lips.

"That's why I'd rather play Seeker," he joked, gently wiping the red sauce away with the serviette. The stain seemed to have relocated to Hermione's cheeks as she coloured; James fanned his thumb over those pink apples and whispered, "You know, you look so adorable when you blush."

Pink turned to crimson, but Hermione didn't say anything. She reached for another spoonful of pudding and presented it to James, who shook his head.

"I've had enough, thanks."

Her forehead creased. "Are you sure? I don't think you had lunch."

"Well, yes, I didn't. But I'm fine now, really." He took her hand and squeezed it. "Besides, we have to return to the castle soon."

"Oh." She would have liked nothing more than to stay here with him, secluded from the rest of the world. Hermione inclined her head away from him and thoughtfully asked, "We're not going to camp out and spend the night here?"

"That would be divine," James agreed, pulling her to her feet as she reluctantly stood up. "But not tonight." He took each of her hands in his and held them between their bodies.

Hermione smiled. "Of course. I forgot you still had rounds." Then she looked down at their clasped hands and wondered, "What are we going to do?"

"Wait." James withdrew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at a weird contraption that almost looked like a radio. Nothing happened. He frowned and flicked it, his attempt futile. He slipped the wooden stick back into his robes and said, "There was supposed to be music."

"Music?" Hermione repeated.

"I wanted to dance with you," James said, his hazel eyes penetrating her brown ones with so much feeling. Hermione realised how deeply emotional he really was despite the carefree facade he upheld in front of everyone. "Will you dance with me, Regina, even without a song playing?"

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat at his sincerity. "Of course."

James smiled mysteriously as his left hand travelled down to her waist and her right clenched around his upper left arm. He then guided her left hand outward and aligned her arm with his right, coaxing her to sway to some invisible rhythm. Her feet stumbled every once in a while, as she had never really been graceful, but eventually she was able to keep in step with him—or maybe it was he who had learned to dance harmoniously with her. It didn't matter anymore.

"James?" Hermione prompted after a while.

"Hmm?"

"The roses you gave me… Why were there only two? And why was one—"

James pulled her nearer to him. "Ah," he murmured. "I was almost hoping you'd ask. The rose in full bloom symbolised you, a beautiful woman at the pinnacle of her femininity."

Hermione smiled, thrilled at his words. "And the bud just about to bloom?"

"It represents my love for you," James confessed quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Young and new, and yet…" He took a deep breath before continuing, knowing that this was the perfect time to say what he had long desired to say, to finally make her understand. "Last night, I was thinking about how I came to feel so much for you even though I had known you—really known you—for a little over three weeks. But then I realised that time did not make any difference anymore—"

Hermione's heart jolted at his words.

"—because I felt like I had already shared a very big part of myself with you, maybe an even bigger part than I had ever shared with anybody else." His hand released hers and fell to the other side of her waist; instinctively, she rested her arms on his shoulders and entwined her fingers behind his neck so that they were now closer than ever.

"At first I was uncertain whether I really loved you because I had just been…" He bit hard on his lower lip. "I was just starting to get over Lily. You had become my friend—one of the very best—and I didn't want to hurt you or use you in any underhanded way." James lifted his right hand and traced his index finger along the curve of Hermione's face, only to settle at her chin and tilt her head up. "I promise you, Regina, that whatever you might hear from other people about me taking advantage of you is false. Nothing could be further than the truth." He clenched his jaw, as though daring her to contradict him.

Hermione put a finger to his lips to calm him. "I know," she told him softly. "You couldn't have looked at me this way if you were still carrying a torch for her." His features relaxed, but his embrace around her tightened. She rested her head on his chest, unable to say anything, and for a while, they simply continued to sway to their own imaginary music.

"This is funny, isn't it, dancing to a nameless melody and yet feeling like it's the only way to dance," James murmured in her hair as one hand ensnared itself in her mahogany tresses. "I had always expected love's arrival to be heralded by bells ringing and a symphony playing, only to discover with you that love is when everything else is quiet and all you can hear are two hearts beating in tune with each other."

How did he know that was just exactly what she had been thinking when he had kissed her earlier that day? Hermione blinked back tears and looked back up at him, overwhelmed with every heartfelt word he had uttered. "James, this is… I don't know what to say."

James shook his head almost imperceptibly, as though to tell her that she need not say anything. The passion in his eyes were intensified by his glasses, but barring those, he seemed almost composed now that he had told her everything—almost everything.

"I love you very much, Regina Weisz."

He lowered his mouth to hers for a searing kiss, as if to prove his point, but stopped a fraction of an inch from her slightly parted lips.

"And I love you just as much, James Potter."

In that heartbeat, she had made him the happiest he could ever be.

James almost didn't want to break off the kiss, for it was during those moments that he felt both weak and strong at the same time, that he loved and was loved back. But then it was always incredible to have to start, to spiral into that vortex of emotions, all over again.

When he drew back, he recognised the starry look in her eyes and saw his reflection in them, confirming that he had touched her in the way he had most wanted to—in the most intimate way. His heart suddenly felt light, and he gently removed Hermione's left arm around his neck and extended it along with his right.

"Do you know any good dance moves?" James asked mildly, his lips curved in that tiny, devastatingly handsome smile.

Hermione returned his smile sheepishly. "Uh, no. I was never very coordinated, just like you told me last night."

"Let me teach you one then," he said, the impish twinkle back in his eyes. "First we sway three times—left, right and then left again—and then as we swing back to the right, I'll raise our joined hands thus." he instructed while demonstrating. "You'll duck and twirl around under so that you're at the end of my right hand, but you'll curl in the opposite direction afterwards and throw yourself backwards." He let out a small laugh at her raised eyebrows. "Don't worry; I'll be there to catch you just before you fall."

"Bet you're making this up," Hermione teased.

"Now why would I do that?" James asked. "On the contrary, there is such a thing called the dip." He stretched their arms further. "Ready?"

So they swayed thrice, and Hermione spun away from him. He nodded encouragingly at her, his other arm ready to welcome her back snugly. Hermione, however, whirled back in a little forcefully; startled, James wasn't able to securely hold her around her waist as she dipped, and they both tumbled into the cluster of waiting cushions on the floor, laughing and in a tangle of limbs.

"I thought you said you were more coordinated," Hermione managed to get out between giggles.

"Actually, I did that on purpose," James countered half-jokingly. "This is quite a predicament I'm in now."

Hermione realised just how much of him was touching her, what with almost the entire length of his body covering hers. She could almost feel the heat emanating from him and was pretty sure he could feel hers himself; she self-consciously tried to cajole her hair back into place. "I must look like a mess now."

"Oh, no," James refuted, the tip of his nose nudging hers as he stilled her hands. "You look beautiful." He worshipped every inch of her radiant face with a rainfall of kisses. "You _are_ beautiful."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I don't know why I'm making Peter out to be the thoughtful one. I just had the impression that he was more perceptive than what his friends gave him credit for, that he saw and appreciated a lot of things they could not. For next chapter, I just want to say that I'm so happy my initial date of James's birthday was close to what was revealed in HPDH. Haha. :) 


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **I am sooo sorry for the very long delay; I've been busy with school and extracurriculars. I hope this chapter will be good enough. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing my touch. Haha. ;)

**Chapter Summary:**They think they're perfect for each other. The rest of the world believes otherwise.

* * *

**Chapter 18: Change of Heart **

_The very thought of you, and I forget to do  
The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do.  
I'm living in a kind of daydream  
I'm happy as a king;  
And foolish though it may seem  
To me that's everything.  
I see your face in every flower  
Your eyes in stars above._

_--- Ray Noble (The Very Thought of You) ---_

"So you're together now?" Sirius asked in what he hoped was a cheerful voice. It was Sunday afternoon, and the common room was crowded with students bullying their brains into studying after euphorically milking yesterday's win well into the night. It was not proving to be easy for them, however, with the temperate weather luring them out to the grounds.

Hermione looked at James, who was sitting beside her and reading his Charms book with a look of peaceful concentration on his face. He glanced up at Sirius' question and slightly tilted his head to his left.

"Yes, we are," James affirmed without hesitation, a small, secretive smile curving his lips as he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. She relaxed on the couch, reassured by his touch and the certainty in his words.

Sirius did not answer. Instead, his ice-grey eyes shifted from James to Hermione, both of whom had resumed reading the texts on their laps with barely concealed giddiness on their faces. He frowned and turned to Remus and Peter, their features almost comical with amusement. _Am I the only one in this group who's not okay with this? _He shook his head in resignation. _I must be the only sane one then,_ he concluded.

"I'm going to the library to return this book," Hermione suddenly announced, stretching her arms outward. She leaned towards James to kiss him lightly on the cheek, but he had already turned to her as well and so received her show of affection right on the lips. His lingered on hers with intent for longer than necessary, sending pleasant tingles down her spine, and in those moments, she forgot that they were in a common room and were surrounded by people.

Sirius cleared his throat, causing her to jump slightly. Hermione had the grace to lower her eyes as she turned pink and stood to leave the common room without another word. Sirius looked hopefully at James, waiting for an explanation—for him to even notice them, but no. His best friend ended up alternating between staring at the page he was on, fiddling with its corners without really reading and glancing out the window. Either way, the contented smile did not leave his face, and being the concerned friend he really was, Sirius found the sight irritating. He could not understand how James could have fallen in love with this girl so quickly, no matter how beautiful or smart or unusual she was. And she definitely wasn't even _one_ of those three. He glared darkly at James. _She must've stealthily given him a love potion,_ he decided. Now if he could only find an antidote...

"Prongs?"

He looked up, his glasses glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window. From a distance, his eyes almost seemed dreamy, and Sirius struggled with his annoyance.

"What is it?" James enquired softly.

"How much Amortentia do you think she slipped you with?" Sirius asked before he could change his mind, drawing the words out in an effort to sound as though the question was of throwaway importance.

"What?" James's features hardened a second after the question hit him. His hazel eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you suggesting?"

Remus and Peter glanced in alarm from one black-haired friend to another.

"Just possible reasons why you're acting so irrational," Sirius flippantly threw back.

Unsure whether to be angry or pleased at these words, James let out a laugh that sounded like a bark. "I _am_ irrational?"

"Have been lately."

"I don't know about you, Padfoot, but everything makes sense to me." James returned his attention to the book he was holding in utter dismissal of Sirius' remarks.

Sirius' face contorted in disbelief. "Do you hear what you're saying?" he asked incredulously. "Everything makes sense to you, but you yourself are not making any sense!"

James took a deep breath as he geared himself for battle, looked up defiantly and arched his brows in challenge. "Yeah? How come?"

"You—you—" Sirius tugged at his hair in frustration as he grasped for words. "You smile! You sit there reading idly with that stupid smile on your face as though you're in a wonderful daydream!"

"I am, actually, if you—" James began.

"Even your eyes are smiling!" Sirius exclaimed, getting the hang of it now. "No, not smiling. They're practically dancing!" He took a deep breath before continuing. "You hold her hand, kiss her in front of us, act like you're in love..."

James snickered, his irritation fading. "I didn't know you were this eloquent. And for the record, Sirius, I am in love."

Sirius' jaw dropped. "I knew it! You've been positively Confunded!" he concluded with relish, not noticing Peter shake his head disapprovingly.

"For the past three weeks, I suppose?" James retorted sarcastically.

His forehead creased as he hesitated, but Sirius plunged ahead. "She might have figured out a way to lengthen the effects of the Charm. That girl's cleverer than I've ever given her credit for."

"That she is," James agreed with a smile.

"But I'll help you out of this trance, Prongs; don't worry," Sirius rambled on. "I'll start working on it. I'll look for a countercurse and—"

"Sirius!" James exclaimed, grinning now as he held up one hand. "Relax. Frankly, I have never been more lucid. I understand everything completely. Perfectly." He looked squarely at his best friend, and several more heartbeats passed with the two of them staring at each other, willing the other to back down. Remus had never seen James look so resolute but knew that when his friend did, he was bound to get his way. Even the usually indomitable Sirius Black could not stop him.

Remus was proven right when Sirius finally broke eye contact and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, that's why after wasting so many years on Evans, you decide to give up just like that and go out with..." He shook his head, exasperated. "With her." His upper lip curled in a sneer. "Well, don't blame me if this ends up badly."

"Why don't you like her?" James wondered, confused. "You're the only one here who doesn't." He looked at Peter and Remus for confirmation, but they just straightened up in their seats and put on blank expressions.

Sirius exhaled in frustration. "Look. She's fine, okay? She's fine _alone_. I just don't like the idea of her with you."

"But why?" James persisted, getting close to anger once more. "Don't tell me it's because you think I should be with Lily instead."

"Well, you did say you loved her," Sirius accused. "You told us yourself that you loved her."

James shrugged. "Maybe I did," he answered casually. "But so what? Does it matter right now?" He laughed ruefully and added, "You know, Sirius, it's not really the first love that matters, but the last."

"So now you're telling us Regina's the last," Sirius replied, his voice dripping with disdain.

"I wouldn't say no if she were," James said, his lips curving in an impish smile. He watched Sirius roll his eyes and rub the lobe of his ear as he contemplated his next argument. "Go on, Padfoot. What else?"

"You don't even know where she came from," Sirius said, dead serious this time.

James's jaw clenched. "At the risk of sounding more irrational," he said quietly, "I couldn't really care less."

"Not even if she comes from a family of bloodhounds?" Sirius quipped.

James smiled wryly. "You, of all people, should know about not judging someone by how his or her family is like." His gaze swept over his three friends. "Right now, what matters is that she's with me. She loves me, I love her, and—I've never felt this happy." He beamed at them and held out his hands. "Come on, guys. Don't I look it?"

"You look like your dad when he's moony about your mum," Sirius grumbled.

"That's the best thing you've ever said this afternoon, Padfoot," James returned cheerfully, knowing that Sirius had just given him a compliment, however grudgingly. He scrutinised Peter and Remus through his glasses. "How about—"

Remus, who had been following the discussion with mild detachment, simply smiled lightly. "As long as you're happy, James."

Peter nodded his assent. "Yeah, as long as she makes you happy," he echoed.

"Regina should consider herself lucky indeed," Sirius commented in a still unforgiving tone.

James swept his hand through his already messy hair. "Funny, and here I was thinking about how fortunate I am to have her."

Sirius rolled his eyes and snorted. It was during times like these that going against James was like trying to stop an accelerating freight train in its tracks.

His best friend was a lost case.

* * *

She ran her teeth over her lower lip and then her tongue and swallowed as hard as she could, but the uneasy churning inside her stomach just wouldn't go away.

Lily was busy drawing countless circles on what was supposed to be her Advanced Charms assignment. Her doodles somewhat represented her feeling of nausea, and no matter how hard she tried to calm herself by breathing deeply in and out, the sensation was still there. From the corner of her eye, she saw Alice cease writing and look up only to fix her curious blue gaze on her.

_If she asks me again if I'm all right, I swear I'm going to scream,_ Lily thought irritably as she pretended to pay her friend no attention.

Alice rested her chin on the palm of her hand and looked at her more closely, locks of her short blond hair falling across her face. She stifled a smile at the redhead's dismal attempt at nonchalance. "Did you see what happened yesterday?"

The vortex in Lily's stomach deepened so much that she could not even muster enough air to form a response. Her eyes narrowed in question instead.

"James Potter kissed Regina Weisz yesterday," Alice whispered conspirationally, eagerly awaiting her friend's reaction.

Lily became stone rigid in an instant, not daring to breathe. What was she supposed to say? She bit her lips once more as she struggled for the words that would put her pesky friend into place, but all she could see in her mind was the scene she had witnessed and Alice had reminded her of. Hot blood rushed through her veins. _Calm down, Lily,_ she counselled herself. _This is James Potter you're thinking about. You don't care about him._Hardening her resolve, she put her quill down and looked straight at Alice.

"Yeah?" she replied roughly. The image was burning in her mind now, and the flame seemed to sear through her insides.

"Yeah," Alice confirmed. "So they're together now."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Obviously," she muttered.

"Aren't you happy for James?"

"I feel sorry for Regina," Lily answered nastily. "She just signed her own death warrant. But I wager they won't last a month."

Alice opened her mouth to reprimand Lily about being too harsh but decided not to continue. Her friend had always been that way about James anyway. She smiled weakly in return and looked back down at her parchment, and Lily took the gesture to mean that the conversation was over. Alice peered at her surreptitiously every now then while writing, wondering what the circles signified.

"Aren't we supposed to be working?" Alice asked her gently.

Lily brushed her hair out of her face as she glanced up, her brows knitted in slight annoyance. "I can't concentrate," she admitted grumpily.

Alice smiled wryly. She knew deep inside her that Lily was affected, even in the tiniest way possible, by the news of James getting together with somebody else._Maybe she just can't say it out loud._ She reached for Lily's hand and squeezed it sympathetically.

"I'm fine," Lily reacted shortly, jerking her hand away. Alice shrugged and allowed her eyes to wander around the library, which was unusually full of students. She squinted into the distance at Madame Pince's desk; unless she was mistaken, Regina Weisz had just returned a book and was now on her way towards the door, which was only five tables away from theirs.

She watched Regina as she approached them. Even from a distance, it was easy to tell that she was very happy about something—and it certainly wasn't difficult to guess what that something was. Her brown curls bounced up and down as she practically skipped towards the exit.

"Hello," Alice greeted as she passed them.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, surprised and unsure whether somebody had really spoken to her. She acknowledged Alice with a small but pleasant smile, remembering that she was the one of the few people who had helped her find her way around when she had first arrived. "Hello."

"Have a seat," Alice offered her, tapping the chair beside her.

The sudden attention being given to her was baffling, and though Hermione didn't see anything wrong with that, she declined the invitation. "I have to get back to the common room," she explained. "But thanks anyway." Her eyes shifted to the girl sharing Alice's table, and she realised with a jolt that it was Lily.

"Er—hello," Hermione said, feeling a little awkward.

Lily gave a small, almost undetectable nod, but her eyes didn't leave Hermione, who felt as though she was being evaluated to her very core. She stood her ground and calmly met her scrutiny.

"You said you needed to get back to the common room?" Alice prompted a little worriedly. She had sensed the subtle chill in the air.

Hermione's shoulders eased, but before she could thank Alice for reminding her, Lily spoke in a low, deceptively cool voice.

"You shouldn't keep James waiting then."

Astonishment etched itself plainly on Hermione's face at Lily's words; she pursed her lips in quick recovery and nodded. "You're right. I should get going."

"So you're really with James now?" Alice asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Hermione nodded, a sudden shy smile softening her features.

"That's sweet," Alice remarked warmly, unmindful of the fact that Lily had returned to drawing circles on her parchment, dragging the point of the quill across the surface with enough force to tear it. "I'm glad he's finally with somebody. I always thought he would end up winning Lily here over, but then again..." She let out a tinkling laugh while Lily scowled at her paper. "Obviously not."

Hermione fought hard to maintain her composure; allowing herself to be drawn into a conversation with Lily and Alice about James was a very bad decision. She looked at Alice and saw so much of Neville, and at that instant, she was sure that Alice didn't mean anything malicious. That didn't stop the irritation from mounting, however. She resorted to a polite smile and flatly replied, "I'd best be getting back. See you around."

Without waiting for any of the girls to bid farewell, she purposefully marched towards the door and stepped out. The incident at the library flustered her so much that she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. It was only when she was on the stairs to the Gryffindor tower that she had calmed herself down enough to think.

_Alice assumed Lily should be with James._

"Hot chocolate," she told the Fat Lady when she reached the portrait. She clambered inside and absentmindedly made her way to the couch where James sat.

"Hi," he said with a sweet smile as she took her place beside him. She didn't answer, lost in her own thoughts. James encircled her small wrist with his large hand and stroke her pulse with his thumb, the way he always did whenever he greeted her.

At this intimate touch, Hermione panicked. She abruptly turned to look at him, half-hoping James could read the turbulence in her eyes.

He did, and he responded by taking her hand and guiding it to his lap, where he covered it with his other hand. The storm in her dark-brown eyes somewhat quieted down, but the shadows remained.

"What's wrong?" James murmured. He gazed at her with so much concern and, while she gnawed at her bottom lip, wondered what had drastically altered her mood.

Hermione shifted in her seat and managed a wobbly smile. "Are you really that sensitive, or am I just that transparent?"

"Maybe both," James said with a chuckle as he edged closer to her. "So what's wrong?"

"I saw Alice and... Lily in the library," Hermione began, apprehensively waiting for his reaction. She saw the beginnings of a frown and decided to stop.

James remained silent for a few moments before asking, "Did they say anything?"

"None that should really bother me," Hermione hurriedly assured him. "It's just that I felt uncomfortable with what happened, with having encountered them." Her misgivings resurfaced, and try as she might to tamp them down, they kept screaming in her head.

_Alice assumed Lily should be with James._

_Maybe she _should_ be with James._

The thought frightened her, and she grasped James's hand more tightly as though afraid he would slip from her grasp.

"Alice was telling me about how long you've been vying for Lily's attention."

James's face clouded over, but Hermione continued, "I'm sure she doesn't mean anything by it, of course. It's just that..."

He sighed and threw Sirius a dirty look like it was his fault all over again. "Funny, isn't it, that everybody except Lily and I keep on saying we should be together." James lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "But I'm with you, okay?"

Hermione searched his beautiful hazel eyes for the slightest hint of a lie but found none. Her heart melted.

"I'm with you," James repeated. "And that's all that matters." He slipped an arm around her waist, used his other hand to tilt her chin up and sealed his words with a kiss.

Even if the world burned to its doom and took them with it, Hermione wouldn't notice.

Consumed in his passion and wrapped snugly with his love, how could she care about anything else?

* * *

In a span of one week, the whole of Hogwarts knew about their relationship—and with this came a change in how their fellow students saw them. Hermione was no longer the obscure girl whose rather curious arrival did not spark enough attention. More than once, she had heard girls in the lavatory whispering and wondering about how she really was like and how she had gotten Gryffindor's resident golden boy to take a romantic interest in her. Meanwhile, James had stopped being the heartbroken Quidditch star who couldn't, for the life of him, finagle a date with Lily Evans. His reputation for being an arrogant jerk was also even being questioned. How could he be accused of being one in the first place when he was all over the place carrying Hermione's things, opening every door before she entered and pulling out her chair to seat her?

Once, in Potions class, James had even offered to slice her ingredients for her.

"I'm sure Miss Weisz is more than capable of doing that by herself, Mr. Potter," Professor Slughorn wryly remarked upon overhearing James's words.

"I know she is, Professor, but I've got to prove that I'm up to her standards, haven't I?" James answered cheekily.

The other students snickered while Sirius sighed in despair. What his best friend was doing made the rest of the male population look like lovesick saps, and soon, girls were going to expect so much more from them. _No wonder Marlene McKinnon won't go out with me yet._ He scowled as he saw Regina smile, thank James with a brief peck on the cheek and insist upon completing her own work.

James also had not neglected giving her something everyday, be it a flower he had picked from the grounds, a cup of hot chocolate he had procured from the kitchens or a cupcake he had saved from dinner. Almost the whole Gryffindor common room, which was packed with students doing their homework, was witness to his simple displays of love and affection.

"You should stop doing this, James," Hermione had protested even as she blushed after he had presented her a cup of hot chocolate with a pastry on the side on Tuesday night.

"Read the note first," James had insisted, settling beside her with his own cup in his hands. Hermione obeyed and flipped a small card on the saucer open.

_For another sweet day._

Hermione had smiled, lifted her cup to her lips and leaned against him before tasting her drink. "You're spoiling me."

James ensnared his fingers in her hair first before answering, "You deserve it." He punctuated his statement with a kiss on top of her head.

And then just yesterday morning, she had been greeted at the common room before breakfast with three freshly-picked red roses. As usual, James had a short letter dangling from the stem of one flower.

_My world is now rose-coloured, I wonder why?_

Hermione had laughed, understanding the meaning underlying his cryptic words. "That was so thoughtful. Thank you, James." She threw her arms around him and rewarded him with a passionate, knee-weakening kiss that had both of them trembling afterwards.

When they had finished, James had murmured, "I now know what to do next time."

She had pushed his glasses up and nudged his nose with her index finger. "You never run out of ideas, do you?"

"Uh—huh," James had agreed. "You've shown what a wonderful incentive awaits three roses so I'm going to bring more next time."

Hermione had turned faintly pink and then whispered, "You don't have to risk making Professor Sprout; you just need to ask." She stood on tiptoes and touched his lips with hers once more, enjoying the way his arms tightened possessively around her waist in response.

"I love you, Regina Weisz."

"And I love you, James Potter."

Eyes closing briefly before opening again, Hermione sighed in reminiscence and glanced the tip of her tongue over her upper lip as though relishing the remnants of that kiss. She cast a fleeting look at James, who was beside her and was supposedly eating dinner, and directly met his steady gaze. She jumped at the realisation that he had been watching her—and for quite some time already, so it seemed.

"What?" Hermione asked self-consciously, unnerved by the look of mischief glinting in his eyes.

"Nothing," James replied, this time wearing a satisfied smile that was a little too arrogant for her taste. He turned to his plate, sliced a tiny slab of meat and popped it into his mouth, determinedly not looking at her.

Hermione observed him for several more moments, wanting to demand exactly what he was smiling about. He was doing a very good job of purposefully acting like he did not notice her scrutiny, his intent reserved only for his food. But then again her point-of-view provided her with an excellent profile of his face. She ran her teeth over her lower lip and held back another sigh. Despite her annoyance, she could not help but admire the way his hair stuck out messily in all directions and the strong cut of his jaw. For one crazy moment, she wanted to run her hand through his hair, trace that handsome jaw and kiss him right then and there.

Just as she blushed at the very thought of it, James looked at her questioningly. "What is it?"

She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Not—nothing," she stammered weakly, thankful that she had come to her senses in the nick of time.

James's face broke into a boyish grin as though he understood exactly what she meant. He allowed the back of his hand to brush across her cheek. "You look happy."

Hermione smiled and pressed his hand against the side of her face. It was during times like these that James somehow managed to make the rest of the world disappear. "I am happy. Never been happier."

"Because of me?" he asked playfully, bringing his hand down to under the table where he cupped her knee.

"Of course. Who else?" Hermione responded, and he beamed at her. She slid her own hand under and entwined her fingers with his. They stayed that way all throughout dinner and until after they had walked out of the Great Hall.

"I'll see you later," James said, planting a quick kiss on her lips. He let go of her hand and watched her walk to Remus, who was waiting by the stairs. Just before they started on the first rung, Hermione turned, smiled shyly at him and blew him another kiss. He jumped and pretended to catch it in the air, staggering as he landed with a hand clutching his chest. Her laughter at his silly antics rang out like the peal of bells, and it pleased him that he had made her laugh. She gave one last wave before finally making her way up.

Remus dragged his leaden feet with each step as he struggled to keep in pace with Hermione, whose toes seemed to only lightly touch the ground. He followed her as she deftly entered the portrait hole to the common room and saw her race up to her dormitory. He opened his mouth to ask her what she was up to but decided against it. Instead, he joined Sirius and Peter, both of whom were talking animatedly by the fire. As he neared them, he could hear some of the words but could not make neither head nor tail of their conversation.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a picnic by the lake," Peter was saying. "Wine—lots and lots of it—and food and birthday cake—"

Sirius rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Why is it all about food? It's not _your_ day, Peter. Listen," he said persuasively. "We need to do something with a bang."

Remus sat down on the hearthrug beside Peter just as his round-faced friend replied uncertainly, "You mean like fireworks?"

"Honestly, Wormtail! I don't know how you even made it through school these past seven years," Sirius retorted disgustedly.

Peter frowned, and that was when Remus decided to intervene. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Our plans for James's birthday," Sirius answered, his eyes flitting briefly towards Remus before settling on Peter once more. "Look, Wormtail. We all want to make this day special for James, and trust me, he wouldn't want some dorky celebration."

"Just because we don't agree doesn't mean you're free to dress down my ideas any way you want," Peter replied stiffly, his expression reproachful. "Besides, we've been playing pranks either on him or in his name for the past six years."

Remus sighed, secretly agreeing with Peter. "Well, why don't we use both of what you want?" he suggested. "I'm sure we can come up with a new joke and throw a birthday party at the same time." Although now that he had come to think about it, he realised that it had been stupid of them to include the entire school in celebrating James's birthday every year. _No wonder they all think he's more arrogant than really is._

"Well, maybe we can do the joke during the day and have a good time by ourselves during the night," Sirius acceded hesitantly.

"Have you got a trick up your sleeve yet, Padfoot?" Remus enquired, wondering if this was the reason he was being so insistent.

Sirius shook his head. "But I'm sure I'll come up with something." He glanced at the other two Marauders. "You try and help in that department as well."

Silence descended upon the three boys as each was left to their own contemplations. Peter toyed with the fibres of the rug while the other two stared into the fire until Remus heard soft footfalls approach. He looked up expectantly and saw Hermione. She flashed him a brief smile before curling up on a nearby couch, and he swallowed hard to calm the sudden fluttering of his heart. He found her beautiful—still.

An idea struck him like lightning. "Don't you think we should enlist Regina's help?" he tentatively asked his friends.

A blond and shaggy black head jerked up simultaneously at this question, and Remus was sure he knew what each of his friends were going to say.

"Fine with me," Peter said with a shrug.

"No way," Sirius said, shaking his head defiantly. "This is a Marauders' thing."

Hermione slowly lowered her book and surveyed them from afar, wanting to hear more of what they were talking about.

"But she's very special to him," Remus reasoned out. "He would be so happy if she were included in our surprise."

"Let her plan one of her own," Sirius snapped. "Like a romantic, candlelit dinner for two."

Hermione pursed her lips; her instincts were telling her that the girl the Marauders had been referring to was her. "What's that you're discussing?"

"It's none of your business," Sirius replied irritably.

"What a witty retort," Hermione said dryly, laughing afterwards at his immaturity. Sirius pulled on an even more dour face. "Just so you know, Sirius, I heard my name. So what were you talking about?"

Sirius did not answer, so Remus did. "James's birthday," he explained. "We were trying to plan something for him."

"James's birthday?" Hermione repeated with a squeak, her brows jumping. _Why didn't I ever think about asking him that?_ She closed her book and put it aside. "When is it?"

Three jaws identically dropped open in shock at her question.

"How come you don't know that?" Sirius demanded. "Considering that you're his... His..." His voice trailed off. "Whatever. That's rubbish."

Hermione did not answer, knowing for certain that James didn't know when her birthday was either.

The look of quandary on her face made Remus feel a little sorry for her. "It's on the twentieth, Regina," he said gently. "It's just a week away, which is why we're scrambling for ideas."

"Oh." The twentieth of March. _Why didn't I know?_ she berated herself._ And what am I going to do for him? _Hermione cringed at she thought about how sweet James had been to her ever since they had gotten to know each other a little better. He went out of his way for her every time, and she didn't even know his birthday was approaching!

"Yeah," Peter agreed eagerly. "Last year, we threw a Hogsmeade-inspired party for the whole Gryffindor house since his birthday coincided with a won Quidditch match, and the year before last, we had a hex-Snivelly-all-you-can day."

Hermione frowned, her mind snapping back to the ongoing conversation. "That was really mean."

"Then there was also one year when we tried to set up him up a date with Evans," Peter went on, oblivious to Hermione's remark. "But that didn't go too well—did it, Moony?"

"It was a fiasco," Remus confirmed, smiling slightly. "The thing is, Regina, we need something new this year. Something spanking new."

"I vote we host a small party for him," Peter said. "Just the four—er, five," he corrected hastily as he caught Hermione's eye. "The five of us."

Remus' forehead creased thoughtfully. "You know, I kind of like that," he contributed, earning a reproving glare from Sirius. "It's his last birthday here at Hogwarts, after all. He'd want to spend it with the most important people in his life."

"What about you, Sirius?" Hermione asked him, graciously soliciting his opinion. "You're his best friend."

"Damn right I am," he answered gruffly. "I know him better than anybody, and trust me when I say that he's going to want a night to remember."

"So what do you suggest? Another day of pranking?" Remus wondered.

Sirius shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes. "Yes," he asserted. "But this time, the joke's going to be on James." He noted the suddenly bright expressions on his friends' faces, which could only mean that they had something naughty in mind. "Have you ever noticed how much James talks about his birthday days before it? I'm actually surprised he has not started harping on about it yet."

"He must have other things on his mind," Peter said with a significant look at Hermione. "But so what if he's like that? He wouldn't be James if he wasn't."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Wormtail, don't you see? That's how special Prongs think he is."

"Well, he is extraordinary," Hermione said with a smile, coming automatically to his defence.

"That's not my point, so if you will just let me finish," Sirius gritted through his teeth, "I was about to say that Prongs always expects us to do something for him because he think he's that important to us."

Remus scratched his head. "Does this mean we're not going to do anything for him this year? I thought you said you wanted something big, something he would never forget."

"Exactly," Sirius replied with satisfaction. "We're going to have something for him, of course—like a party or something—but we will act like we have none." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "James is used to getting his own way, and he is waiting for something special on the twentieth, which means we _won't_ do it on the twentieth."

"I don't know. That sounds quite nasty," Peter commented. "He's going to have a fit if he doesn't get anything from us on his birthday."

Sirius shrugged. "We can handle a small tantrum. Besides, it will make his birthday even more memorable." He glanced sideways at Hermione. "Of course, you can be our saving grace if you don't want to go along with our plan."

_Our plan?_ Remus echoed in his head. _Have Peter and I agreed?_

"What plan?" a booming voice said over from somewhere behind and above them. They all started and looked up to see James grinning widely, carrying a tray of five steaming chocolate cups. He sat down beside Hermione, took two cups and handed one to her before using his wand to direct the platter to his three friends on the floor.

Hermione took her drink blankly, too stunned at his unexpectedly early presence to speak.

"Our plan for the next Hogsmeade trip," Sirius covered up smoothly.

"I didn't see any new notice," James said blandly.

Sirius laughed. "Come on, mate. Since when did we ever need permission to visit the village?" The Marauders all snickered at that.

"Well, if it's on the twentieth, you should tell me soon so I can tell my mum she can't bring me home for dinner," James said after swallowing a gulp of hot chocolate.

"You're going home on the twentieth?" Sirius asked, perplexed. Hermione stifled a giggle. "How come?"

James narrowed his eyes at his so-called best friend. "It's my birthday on the twentieth, Padfoot. Don't tell me you've forgotten." He glared at the other Marauders. "Don't tell me you've _all_ forgotten." He looked hopefully at Hermione, who smiled sheepishly at him as she took his hand.

"I didn't know until tonight," she murmured in apology. James shifted his hand so that it encircled her wrist and smiled forgivingly at her.

"Birthdays become more and more trivial as one grows older, Prongs," Sirius explained matter-of-factly. "But if you want something on your birthday, then I guess it'll have to wait until the twenty-first." He shrugged. "After all, we have that ten-foot long essay due for McGonagall on the twenty-first. You wouldn't want to miss submitting that, would you?"

James stared hard at Sirius for several long moments before he burst out laughing. "Okay, mate. I get it. It's a joke. You were trying to be funny." When none of his friends reassured him that they were indeed pulling his leg, he shook his head frustration. "Never mind. It doesn't matter." He drained his cup of chocolate and turned to Hermione.

"I'm tired. Good night." James kissed her briefly on the cheek and squeezed her hand again before standing up. He walked over to the hearthrug and set his cup a little too roughly on the plate. Just before he stalked off, Remus distinctly heard him mutter, "Merlin forbid you break a sweat over something as insignificant as your friend's birthday."

They all waited until he was out of earshot before eyeing each other warily.

"Maybe we should devise another plan," Hermione said cautiously. "I mean... I don't want him to get mad."

Judging from what his best mate said about this girl making him so happy, Sirius doubted James would be angry with her even if she did anything to cause him pain. "Regina," he started, surprising even himself with the fact that he had addressed her by her first name. "Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Besides, this is the only time I'll be allowing you to upset him. If you ever do anything like this again..."

Hermione met Sirius' probing gaze. "I would never do anything to hurt him," she promised softly.

For the first time, the usually irritable raven-haired boy smiled agreeably at her; her sincere words had pacified him, and a moment of meaningful understanding had passed between them. "Glad to hear that."_Perhaps she does care deeply for James._

Peter sighed heavily. "We're going to go through with it then? Host the party on Saturday, one day later than the twentieth? Ruin his birthday on purpose?"

"You bet!" Sirius exclaimed, stretching his legs out before him.

Remus groaned in disagreement. "Terrific. With friends like us, who needs enemies?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I know, I know. It's boring because nothing new has happened yet. Sigh. There are chapters that you simply have to write to build things up for another twist, and this is one of those. :) For the curious ones, it will take two to three more chapters for the Marauders' seventh year to come to a close. That is where something heartbreaking (sniff, sniff) will happen, and then there will probably be two more chapters before Hermione goes back to her own time. How and why... Well, you'll just have to wait and see. ;) 


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:**Allow me to first apologise for the time it took to finish this chapter. I made it twice the length of an ordinary chapter to make up for the long wait, and I hope you'll think this worth it. The title is a line from Chicago's "Will You Still Love Me", which has absolutely fantastic lyrics. :)

**Chapter Summary:**There are some things people just know they want, either for that instant or for the rest of their lives.Like what colour to wear, what coffee to have, what cake to eat. Like who to hate, to befriend, to love... And ultimately spend the rest of their lives with. Like James. He just knows. It just fits. Regina.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Every Step to Forevermore**

_I see myself within your eyes  
And that's all I need to show me why  
Everywhere we are  
You and I were meant to be forever and ever.  
Now I know my life has given me more than memories  
Day by day, we can see  
In every moment there's a reason to carry on._

_--- Kenny Loggins (Whenever I Call You Friend) ---_

The sun had barely risen, but already Hermione was awake the following Saturday morning, tucked comfortably under her blanket and thoughtfully playing with its fringes. She had opened her eyes that morning with a feeling that something was not quite right and then remembered having been in on the supposedly hilarious plan for James's birthday. She pressed her face into her pillow. Should she go on with it, or should she not?

_James will be hurt if I let his birthday pass with no mention of it, especially now that he knows I know._

On the other hand, she had quite as good conspired with the other Marauders. It was too late to back out now. Besides, Hermione didn't think she would ever forget that flash of understanding between her and Sirius. He had not kept secret the fact that he disliked her with his best friend, but last night, for the briefest of moments, it was as though their minds had finally met and reached a compromise. She wasn't about to break that.

"That settles it then," she murmured. "I'll just have to play along." With that out of the way, her mind shifted gears as she wondered what she could get James for his birthday. What can she give the boy who has it all?

_Maybe a robe. Or a bag of jokes. Or a Snitch. Or a broom polishing kit—do they have those already?_ She knew he would immensely enjoy such presents, but where in the name of Merlin would she get the money? She had no personal possessions except the quill he had bought her, and hell would freeze over before she sold that for a couple of Galleons.

Hermione laughed aloud as an unbidden comeback struck her. She had already given him her heart, her life. What more could he ask for?

_Nothing,_ she answered herself. _Except that he doesn't know, of course, and it would still be good if I give him something... Something that would show him I really love him._

She sat up and reached for the knob of the top drawer beside the bed, intending to take out one of the Hogwarts robes she had borrowed from the school cabinet so she could get dressed. It wasn't that she planned on wearing a uniform for the day; she meant to temporarily split and Transfigure it into a pair of jeans and a buttoned yellow shirt. Hermione held the robe up and critically inspected it, shaking the dust away. Satisfied, she drew her wand with her right hand and pushed the drawer closed with the left—but not before catching a glimpse of light glinting brightly off an object.

She went rigid in an instant, startled. Bubbles of hope and amazement erupted inside her. She had forgotten! Of all the things to forget, it had to be the Time-Turner! Hermione reopened the drawer, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the sparkling glass nestled on a chain of untarnished gold.

_This is the answer._Her face broke into a smile. _And__it's a__beautiful answer._

Bursting with energy, she hastily changed into her clothes, tucked her wand away and scooped the necklace from the wooden surface. Her eyes lingered on it for several seconds, noting its significant weight, which was indicative of the potion's activity. She carefully fastened it around her neck, rushed out the door and descended the stairs to the common room, which was thankfully empty. She slid the portrait door open and clambered out, walking as quickly as she could to the third floor of the castle.

Once she had reached the one-eyed hump, Hermione cautiously looked left, right and around her before slowly taking her wand out. "_Dissendium_!" she muttered urgently, tapping the statue. The passageway to Hogsmeade was revealed, and she climbed into it without hesitation, willing to endure an hour crawling through the darkness just to get to her destination—Dervish and Banges, a shop of a variety of magical objects.

She had business to accomplish.

* * *

Honeydukes was silent when she hoisted herself out of the trapdoor. _No wonder,_ she thought to herself. _It's just a little past seven._

Hermione tiptoed up the stairs from the cellar. She glanced at the shelves of sweets surrounding her and caught sight of a stack of boxes of white rose-shaped chocolates, and a small smile of reminiscence crossed her lips.

She approached the door, easily unlocked it with her wand and stepped out into the morning sunshine. Majority of the stores were still closed, among them Dervish and Banges, so Hermione decided to have a walk around and check the items for sale displayed in their windows. At Quidditch Supplies, she saw that Nimbus had released yet a newer version of their broom—the Bullet. Hermione pressed her nose to the glass to peer more closely at its fine, gleaming wooden handle. _Price on request_._Figures.__It might not even be worth the Time-Turner._

After having restlessly strolled around for almost an hour, Hermione traced her steps along High Street to Dervish and Banges just in time to see a small, stout witch with flyaway greyish-white hair change the _CLOSED_ sign to _OPEN_.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted after swinging the door shut behind her.

The old woman jumped and gave a little yelp of surprise as she turned around, her glasses almost completely sliding down her nose. "You surprised me, my dear," she croaked, her voice probably sore from sleep. "What can I offer you?" She gestured towards a stack of sealed boxes to her right and said, "We had some new items shipped in just yesterday—Dark detectors, Sneakoscopes, magical protective amulets... They have quite a demand for them these days, don't they?"

Hermione didn't answer and merely stared warily at her.

"Dark times, dark times," the old witch muttered ominously, shaking her head as she reached for a rag and began wiping dust off the shelves. After several minutes of silence, the she turned around, her eyebrows jolting up when she realised the young girl was still there. "What did you say you want?"

Hermione blinked as though snapping out of a trance and sputtered, "Nothing. I didn't say anything yet."

The woman watched her intently as she gathered her thoughts.

"I wanted to sell you something," Hermione began haltingly, taking the hourglass out of her robes and removing it from around her neck. The shrunken eyes behind the glasses interestedly followed her movements as she held it up to the light, causing patterns of rainbow to dance around the store.

Staring transfixed at the object in Hermione's hands, the store owner's eyes widened in awe. "It couldn't be..."

"It is," Hermione responded softly. "It is a Time-Turner."

"But how—?" The croaky voice was now filled with mingled wonder and suspicion.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "Madam, as long as this is real, does it matter where it came from?"

"Certainly," the old woman haughtily. "I wouldn't want the Ministry on me for participating in illegal trade."

"That won't be the case here," Hermione answered, offering the Time-Turner for the other witch to touch. "See for yourself, why don't you, Madam—"

"Allegria," she answered, gingerly receiving the necklace from Hermione. She tested its weight on her hand and held it up to her eyes for inspection. "It does seem quite real. Can I... Can I try it? Check if it works?"

Hermione raised one hand to stop her. "Only if you know and understand the consequences," she warned. "You see, unlike the ordinary Time-Turner, each turn of this hourglass sends you a year back in time. A year, not an hour. A _year_."

The old woman narrowed her eyes as though unsure whether or not to believe her. But she was a witch who specialised in charmed objects, and this necklace, Time-Turner or no, definitely emanated an aura of sophisticated magic. "You said you wanted to sell it?"

At Hermione's eager nod, Madam Allegria jerked her head briskly. "Very well. I'll take it. How much do you want for it?"

"Four hundred Galleons," Hermione responded at once.

"Two hundred."

"No way," Hermione said, shaking her head vehemently. "This is supposed to be your lore. Surely you are aware that the chain itself is pure gold?"

Madam Allegria scowled at her. "Do not tell me my business, little missy. Three hundred then."

"Three hundred fifty."

After a couple more minutes, they settled at three hundred and twenty Galleons. Hermione counted the money, politely thanked the old lady and was about to leave the shop when an idea occurred to her. She whirled and saw the store owner reverently stroking the hourglass that now hung around her neck, mindless of the fact that she was still inside.

"Madam?"

She gave a surprised jolt and looked sharply at her. "I thought we had already agreed on the price."

Hermione shook her head. "I was wondering if you sold watches? Those given to males in the Wizarding world who have come of age?" At the woman's blank look, she added, "With stars instead of hands?"

"Aha!" Madam Allegria dropped her hands from her collarbone and rushed to a glass display somewhere in the back of her store. Hermione followed her, careful to dodge tall stacks of boxes of different shapes and sizes. When the old witch turned to face her next, she was holding a velvet rectangular case in her hands.

"Like this?" she enquired, dramatically pulling the lid open. Lying in the soft recess inside was a watch with a silver bracelet, the twelve stars on its face twinkling realistically even as its hands lay dead.

Hermione managed a nod, stunned by its simple and yet elegant and masculine beauty. "But what is it for? Why has it become tradition for a boy to be given such a watch as a gift?"

Madam Allegria looked at her as though unable to believe her ignorance. Her expression cleared after a couple of seconds, however, and she cleared her throat before speaking. "It's a relic of the Wizarding world's patriarchal past, m'dear. A time when males were believed to purely shoulder the responsibility of making decisions. The stars symbolise the different celestial bodies. The hands of the clock point to them differently each time, depending on what the heavens foretell for its wearer."

"So the watch is supposed to guide the man in his decisions?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Yes," Madam Allegria replied. "But its power is activated only after a boy who has come of age wears it. After that, the watch will not attempt to predict the future for any other person." She fixed her gaze seriously on Hermione. "The boy, who now must live as a man, will be aided for as long as he has this on his wrist." She blinked, and her face became thoughtful. "Of course, hardly anybody knows the story behind this custom anymore. Fools, I daresay, to keep on buying things without being aware of their usage."

Hermione smiled lightly even as she assimilated all the information that had been given to her. _Something to help him steer his path..._ This would make a wonderful gift for James. He had come of age the previous year, but she had never seen a watch on his wrist. "Perhaps so," she agreed as she motioned to take a closer look at the box. "How much is this particular watch?"

The price sticker on the item said two hundred and fifty Galleons, but Madam Allegria was so delighted with Hermione that she agreed to give it to her with a twenty percent discount. She continued conversing enthusiastically with her as she rang up the girl's purchase and, when she was done, escorted her to the door.

"Come visit again," Madam Allegria bid in farewell. She watched the young witch walk away until she had disappeared from her line of vision, her lips curved in a nostalgic smile until a startling thought struck her. She gripped the wooden frame of her doorway as she steadied herself at the memory and wistfully sighed.

"I forgot to tell her to tell him he shouldn't always trust fate."

* * *

James sullenly paced his dormitory for what was probably the hundredth time that hour, absentmindedly noticing that the soles of his feet were slowly becoming red. He was not in a good mood. Oh, _no_. He felt cranky, annoyed, and even close to angry.

_And why shouldn't I be?_ he snapped at himself._ I woke up this morning ready to forgive my so-called friends for last night and eat breakfast with them, only to find out that they have gone ahead and eaten without me!_

To make matters worse, they refused point-blank to accompany him at the Great Hall, insisting that they had serious things to attend to in the common room. _Serious things, my arse_. He had returned to Gryffindor tower to find them deeply engaged in a game of Gobstones while drinking butterbeer.

"Hand me a bottle too, Moony," he had requested as he sat beside Sirius, concentrating on handling his temper. Remus had taken one from under the couch and handed it to James, but Sirius' arm had cut across, and he grabbed the bottle instead.

"Sorry, mate. This one's the last, and it has my name on it." Sirius uncorked it unceremoniously and drank half of it in one gulp.

James had the impulse to reach for an empty one on the table and smash it on what hypothetically was his best friend's head. Instead, he clenched his fists and roughly stood up, deciding to vent his resentment alone in his dormitory instead.

"What's wrong with them?" he growled, forcefully kicking his trunk and spilling some of his belongings. He threw himself on his bed and sighed, punching the air in rage.

_Regina._ The thought of her usually cheered him up, but not this time. Where was she? Why hadn't he seen her yet? Why wasn't she even looking for him? His frown darkened as he sat up once again and rummaged in his trunk for the map. His hazel eyes wasted no time in looking for her the instant he tapped it with his wand and muttered the necessary words. _Regina Weisz. Regina Weisz._ Her name echoed in his head as he methodically searched for that particular tiny bubble.

_Why can't I find it anywhere?_ He toyed with the idea that she might not be on Hogwarts grounds. _But then where would she be? _Just as he started pondering the possibilities, his eyes flickered to the map's representation of the third floor.

It showed a tiny dot labelled _Hermione Granger_ just climbing out of the tunnel normally concealed by the statue of the one-eyed witch.

_Hermione Granger_. The name was familiar, but it took awhile for him to remember that he last heard it from Peter. A new set of questions immediately flooded his mind. Who was this girl? Why had he never seen her around Hogwarts? And why did she know about the secret passageway to Hogsmeade?

_She might be an intruder._ With that in mind, James hastily jumped off his bed. He needed answers, and he wanted them fast. He tucked in the sheets, smoothed his clothes and prodded the map blank before bending over and tossing it in his trunk along with his other belongings on the floor. He practically leapt down the stairs—only to find Regina in casual conversation with the rest of the Marauders.

His heart jumped. All thoughts of Harmony—or whatever her name was—evaporated from his brain at the sight of Regina, her curly brown hair cascading gloriously down her back. He approached her form behind; she turned just before he placed his large hands on her eyes, and her expression visibly brightened in a huge, sweet smile.

"James."

_Something's finally gone right today_, James thought with relief. "Regina. Morning." He settled comfortably on the couch beside her, cupped her face and kissed her long and tender.

Remus and Peter cast looks of surprise on Sirius, who for the first time in living memory did not even attempt to get the couple to stop what they were doing. Sirius simply shrugged.

When James had finally broken away and Hermione had rested her head on his left shoulder, he said, "I've been looking for you all morning."

Hermione slightly raised her face to his and passed her index finger across the stubble on his chin. "I fancied a walk is all." She didn't dare look at how the other Marauders were reacting to this bold-faced lie, having told them only minutes previously that she had just come from Hogsmeade and bought James a gift.

"As long as you don't give it to him on his birthday," Sirius had commented, a little threateningly.

"What did you get him?" Peter had asked curiously. Before she could tell them all about the watch and its significance though, she had heard heavy footsteps behind her. She recognised them at once; James had arrived.

Hermione released a heavy sigh even as she reached for James's hand and entwined it with hers. Keeping a secret from the man she loved was difficult. _At least it's only for a week_, she consoled herself, closing her eyes and luxuriating in the feeling of James's nimble fingers caressing her scalp.

The irritable noise of something sharp scratching on glass made all of them glance at the window on their right. Peter at once reached out to part the curtains and uncovered a large white owl streaked with greenish-brown outside, wings fluttering to stay airborne.

"Hey, Prongs?" Remus said, recognising the animal. "It's your family's owl."

James silently extracted his arm from around Hermione's waist and the other hand from her hair. When she opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly, he planted a quick kiss on her forehead before standing.

"My parents sent an owl," he explained, approaching the window sill and pushing up the glass pane. The owl snuck under the open space, dropped the parchment into James's palm and affectionately nipped the nail on his thumb before taking flight once again.

James shut the window and quickly untied the ribbon around the parchment. His eyes scanned the entire length of the message.

_My dear son,_

_Now that you've come of age, your father and I have decided to simply ask you what you want for your birthday. Anything you say will be fine. If you could also secure permission from Minerva and Albus to let you and your friends off for the next weekend, we'd be very delighted to prepare a simple celebration._

_Send me your response as soon as you can. I hope you are well. Take care, and do remember that we love you!_

_Your old mum_

He read through it again, uncertain of whether to laugh or to snort good-naturedly at the letter. Giving him the freedom to choose what he should get? That did sound like his mum. _His old mum_, he corrected to himself as he chuckled softly. He remembered how surprised he was to receive his Nimbus the previous year, when he had turned seventeen; he had expected the traditional watch. But then his parents more often than not went against the tide.

As he continued his perusal of the text, however, his annoyance began to mount. _Friends, eh? Birthday celebration?_ His fellow Marauders refused to entertain even the very idea that the twenty-seventh of March was nothing more significant than a date on the calendar!

James folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. His parents could wait—at least until he asked his friends one more time. His eyes strayed to Hermione, who was gazing expectantly at hm. He smiled at her like there was nothing wrong even as he decided he would try his luck with Peter first.

"Wormtail," he started, and his friend reacted with a tiny squeak. James determinedly ignored it and continued, "My mum wrote to ask me what I wanted for my birthday." He noted the way Peter's smallish eyes almost frantically shifted from Remus to Sirius and back again. "So what do you think?"

When neither Sirius nor Remus showed any signs of wanting to help Peter, the small boy mumbled, without even looking at him, "I don't know, Prongs. It's up to you." Hermione glared at him, and he shrank into the couch.

James bit down hard on the inside of his cheek as hot blood rushed to his head. "I guess another broomstick wouldn't be too bad, would it?"

They all surreptitiously exchanged glances. Hermione, cursing the others silently, smiled reassuringly at him. "A broomstick would be excellent, James."

His lips turned slightly upward at this show of approval, but his hazel irises reflected sadness. "Yeah. I guess I'll ask for a Nimbus Bullet." James turned his back on them, pulled the window down and returned to his place beside her.

As soon as he had sat down, Sirius asked the game board, "What do you want the new broom for? You just got the latest Nimbus last year."

_Because it's the best, and I deserve only the best,_ James arrogantly answered inside his head. He pretended not to have heard Sirius, however, and they were all quick to realise that James wasn't warm to the topic anymore. Cold and heavy silence descended, and no one spoke until it was time for lunch. James hastily finished his meal and, with a chill in his voice, excused himself to owl his parents.

James never mentioned his coming birthday again for the rest of the week—not even once. He could not understand why his best friends were suddenly acting that way, and he had given up trying to fathom the possible reasons behind it. The rational side of him told him that they simply didn't care, but after spending almost seven years of his life with them, he found that hard to believe. In the deepest corners of his heart, he kept alive the hope that they did have something special for him, that a plan was in action and that they were simply making him think they otherwise.

March the twenty-seventh dawned along with James's high expectations for the day, even after having lost some sleep finishing that monster of an essay for Transfiguration. He slipped into his seat at breakfast, where all his three friends were already busy eating, and smiled encouragingly at them. In return, Peter munched more loudly on his toast, Remus hid his nose behind a book and Sirius swirled the ice in his glass with additional effort.

The bespectacled boy's smile faded, and he devoted his entire attention to his food instead... Until a loud screech from above interrupted the many different conversations in the Great Hall.

Gasps punctuated an enormous owl's swoop down the Gryffindor table, along with the long and thin package it was carrying; it dipped its beak into somebody's glass of juice before flapping its wings and leaving. The owl's arrival cheered James somewhat, and he immediately tore open the wrapper to reveal the gleaming new Bullet.

"Whoa," Neil said in awe, seated a few feet away from his Captain. "What's the occasion?"

James simply beamed at him and at everyone else around him before loosely enclosing his broomstick in its original wrappings and propping it beside him. He didn't bother reading the card, already knowing it was from his parents. He glanced at his friends, and he could have sworn he saw Remus shift guiltily in his seat and a shadow of worry cross Peter's features. He smirked in satisfaction.

Sirius finally stopped playing with the ice cubes and looked at him squarely. "Why would anybody send you a broom?"

James crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at Sirius. Two can play his game. "It's not just anybody. My parents sent it, and it's for the next match against Slytherin," he gritted out.

"Pretty early to be worrying about that, don't you think?" Sirius countered, unruffled. So he was finally getting to his best friend. "After all, the match is more than a month away."

"It's just so we can practice," James answered shortly and with finality. He was about to add how a broomstick would probably be a better friend than the idiot Sirius Black was when a pair of slender arms wrapped themselves around him, and then his nostrils were infused with that intoxicating scent of vanilla he had come to know so well. It pacified him with ease.

"Good morning!" Hermione chirped happily as she pecked James briefly on the cheek. She slid one of her hands slowly down his broad back as she sat down, leaning towards him and capturing his lips this time in more passionate kiss. James appeared to be somewhat surprised by her open show of affection, but she just smiled.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" She embraced him to her more tightly. "Why don't we go for a walk after breakfast?"

James's heart lightened even as it overflowed with warmth and happiness, and he smiled his assent. At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if_she_ had something planned for him. He certainly didn't expect her to, not after what his best friends did.

"Don't we have class at nine?" Peter asked, confused. His eyes strayed to the large clock that read only ten minutes to the hour.

Sirius nodded emphatically. "Just in case you're thinking today's a holiday or something as special."

James clenched his fists under the table, but Hermione replied evenly, "In the afternoon then, when it's free." She reached out and brushed his messy hair out of his face along with the disappointment clouding his mind. "I love you so much, James."

_That_ made him grin stupidly. He decided that hearing her tell him she loved him was far better than birthday greetings and that he'd take the former any day.

The rest of his birthday went on well enough. A few of the younger Gryffindors, most whom were very taken with James, sent him birthday wishes and a few tiny trinkets. After a hurried lunch, they went for that walk, stopping to rest every now and then to pay more attention to each other than to the scenery. Just after an hour or so of strolling, however, they decided to spend the rest of the lazy afternoon under their beech tree and on a makeshift blanket, where Hermione showed James just how much she really loved him and allowed him to reciprocate in turn.

But despite the fact that the girl he loved more than made up for his friends' absence, James could not help but wish his fellow Marauders—his _best friends_—were also celebrating this very special day with him. Some of his dejection must have shown on his face, for she immediately tried to soothe the pain with a gentle touch of her hand.

"It's fine," he whispered, lifting her hand to his lips and then putting it aside, trailing kisses along her jawline. She shivered in response.

"Cold?" James teased, now nuzzling her neck and slowly making his way to her earlobe.

"Hardly," Hermione murmured, feeling electric jolts of excitement stream through her nerves at his touch. "In fact, I'm warm all over." His nearness was doing strange things to her and she wanted to affect him in the same way, so she lifted her hands, deftly slipped them under his shirt and tentatively explored the bare skin underneath.

James drew in a sharp breath as he slightly rose and supported himself on his elbows, his eyes darkening with desire. She held his intensely romantic gaze until he began to lean towards her; she closed her eyes in anticipation of another gentle yet all-consuming kiss and got it. Hermione's hands moved more feverishly, and he groaned his approval against her mouth.

_Still the same passionate man I remember, this..._ His feet locked in on the soles of her own, and this thought trailed off.

Dusk saw them in a cosy tangle of limbs, talking and laughing and enjoying the still smouldering embers of the idyllic afternoon they had spent in each other's embrace. It was already dinner by the time they returned to the Great Hall; James did not remove his arm around her waist and Hermione kept her hand on his knee until he had to leave for his rounds.

_What a birthday it has been!_ James thought, whistling a happy tune as he walked the corridors alongside Lily that night. Memories of their moments under the tree filled his mind; if that was Regina's birthday gift to him, then Merlin, was it wonderful. He couldn't wait to return to the common room, where she was hopefully still awake. He recalled the touch of her hand and the magic it had evoked in him, stirring strong emotions of mingled embarrassment and curiosity. What would it be like to really be intimate with her?

_Beautiful, without doubt._ The answer came to him instantly, but he at once chastised himself for allowing his hormones to run wild. _You're running ahead of yourself_, a voice inside him warned. _You can't have her that way until you marry her._

_Marriage?_ he asked the voice doubtfully. But even as he questioned the idea for its abruptness, his head painted a picture of Regina in an embroidered white dress and him in an expensive suit, and he smiled. The image was soon after replaced by him Apparating on a porch and her throwing the door open and welcoming him home from work.

_So you can imagine life with her_, the voice remarked, almost tauntingly.

James shook his head. _A lifetime_, he corrected. _And it would be a good, long life. _He hummed to himself more loudly, earning a reproving glower from the redhead with him.

"Cease that stupid singing, Potter, or you'll have to put yourself in detention," Lily hissed just as they were climbing the stairs back to Gryffindor tower. "And you're not even hitting the right notes," she muttered as an afterthought.

He grinned at her. "Who told you I wasn't composing my own music?" he asked impishly. To annoy her even more, he raised his voice a notch and messed up the melody.

"Mr. Potter, if you could please turn that down," Professor McGonagall ordered sharply as both students turned round a corner. "You'll wake up the entire castle."

Lily jerked her head superciliously at this and walked to the portrait alone, disappearing behind it a few seconds later.

"Sorry, Professor," James said, not sounding apologetic at all. He started to walk past his Head of House, but she stopped him firmly by the shoulder. He glanced up in question.

"Another package for you has just arrived," the Transfiguration teacher informed him. "It seems like your parents have forgotten to send your birthday cake and remembered it only tonight."

James frowned. "You opened my package?"

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows knitted sternly. "Purely for security purposes. It is our duty to check parcels sent under suspicious circumstances." Hogwarts' Head Boy looked slightly abashed, and she added more gently, "It's in the kitchen. Happy birthday, James."

"Thanks, Professor," James answered before bracing for a sprint down the stairs.

The school's Deputy Headmistress pursed her thin lips in disapproval and followed James. "You're not supposed to be wandering after hours, Potter," she chided, reverting to what she usually called him. "You can get it tomorrow morning."

James slowly turned to face her again, his smile playful. "But then it won't be my birthday anymore. Or do you mean I can't have my cake and eat it too?" He winked disarmingly at Professor McGonagall and added, "Don't worry about me, Professor. I'll be safe. I'm Head Boy." Without seeing the old woman's faint smile at his cheeky words, James continued to the kitchen, where he was received with a chorus of "Happy birthday!" Tinky handed him the cake, and another house-elf brought a tray with a pitcher of tea, a few cups and saucers stacked on top of each other and some forks.

"Tinky knows you'd be coming, sir," Tinky explained as he struggled with the tray, "so Tinky prepared that for sir's friends."

James accepted both with many thanks and sped back up to Gryffindor tower. The common room was nearly deserted except for a couple of groups of fifth-years by the fire, studiously poring over their books. It puzzled him. _How come no one's up when tomorrow's a Saturday? _He set the cake and the tray on a table near a long couch and climbed the stairs to his dormitory.

The drapes of all the other Marauders were pulled, suggesting that all of them were sound asleep.

As he cautiously approached Sirius' curtains, James heard a sudden frantic rustling and the squeaking of a mattress on springs. When he finally peered through a small gap, he saw Sirius sprawled on the bed, eyes squeezed tightly shut and snoring a little too loudly for it to be real.

A grin split James's face into two; he both wanted to laugh and punch Sirius in his face._But why does he have to pretend?_ Could he really have forgotten his birthday and was trying to mask his guilt, or was there something else going on? He sighed. This growing rift between him and the Marauders was driving him crazy.

"Padfoot?" No response.

"Pads?" Still nothing.

"Paddie-pers!" James resorted to calling him by one of the most hated distortions of his nickname; Sirius had complained that it made him look like an overgrown baby. Not that it wasn't close to the truth, of course, considering his immaturity. But Sirius still didn't show any sign of wanting to give up his act, so James forcefully closed the curtains. Just as he did, he heard the unmistakable sound of someone shifting in bed and maybe even a familiar snort.

James shook his head in resignation and descended the stairs to the common room. He walked over to a company of fifth-years, snatched a piece of paper and a quill on their table without warning and started writing. A blond girl stared hard and warily at him during the entire time.

"There," he said with a flourish after some moments, dropping the quill on the table and folding the note. He thrust it into the blond girl's hands. "Go up to your dormitory and give it to Regina."

"Er—excuse me?" she said irritably. "I'm busy studying for my O.W.L.s. Stop barging in on other people and ordering them around."

Obviously not accustomed to being denied like this, James was about to threaten her with one week's worth of detention when a quiet voice next to the blond said, "Never mind. I'll take it." James's eyes flitted to her and lit with recognition.

"Nicole," he greeted, turning on his charm. Her friend mimed vomiting into her book. "Thank you—"

"Don't mention it," the raven-haired female returned with a soft smile, getting to her feet. How many times had she agreed to deliver his little notes to Lily back then? "For Regina, correct?" she asked, wanting to make sure.

James nodded, the name making him smile. "You won't have trouble finding her. You just can't miss the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts."

Nicole had heard it all before and so merely smiled politely.

"By the way, you just earned ten points for Gryffindor," James called to her retreating back.

* * *

The girl James had called the most beautiful was comfortably lying in bed on her stomach, accomplishing the finishing touches on a miniature doll she had carefully sculpted using magic. What was before a flat sheet of paper was now a stunning replica of James Potter, complete with a broomstick in his hand. His rugged face was painted with his trademark smirk, but his hazel eyes reflected the usual tenderness Hermione saw in them. She pointed her wand at his hair and mussed it around even more, knowing how he loved to do so himself, slipped on the doll's glasses and smoothened his Hogwarts robes.

_He is perfect_, Hermione thought dreamily. With a gentle caress of the doll's cheek using her thumb, however, the doll immediately transformed back into paper, plain and dull. Hermione used her wand once more to write the words she knew would never faint.

"James said this was for you," a lilting voice suddenly spoke from somewhere above her head. Hermione glanced up and saw a fellow Gryffindor holding out a note for her to get.

"For the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts," Nicole added with a smile.

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "He said that?"

"Yes, he did. Always the charmer, isn't he?" Nicole responded knowingly. Hermione laughed and took the folded parchment, sitting up as she thanked her. She waited until the other girl was out of the room before opening it.

The first word shot thrills down her spine.

_Love,_

_Could you join me for some birthday cake and tea?_

Hermione's face brightened in an ethereal smile, letting the gaiety of the situation wash over her. _Could she?_ Did James really think he had to ask her? The words he'd written repeated themselves in her head. _Love._Her smile widened. _Love._

Wasting no more time, Hermione jumped up from bed, tossed her wand and the doll into her pocket and rushed out the door to the stairs, where she stopped in her tracks.

Like her very own prince waiting to take her away on his proud steed, James was standing at the bottom rung, his arm resting on the banister and his face turned hopefully upward. When their eyes connected, Hermione watched in fascination as his lips curved in a mysterious yet obviously delighted smile. It told her that he never doubted she would want his company.

Hermione took a couple of steps down the stairs and saw James's brows furrow and his eyes take on an intent, almost entranced, glaze. _Is something wrong?_ Unsure, she descended more slowly until she was only one stair step higher than him. He hadn't moved the entire time, she realised.

"James—"

He suddenly twined both arms around her knees and lifted her high up into the air, causing her to shriek in protest. "James!" Hermione's hands flailed wildly in the air before finding his shoulders, and she grasped them for balance. His eyes remained glued to hers, although his expression had changed from something grave to that of amazement. Holding her like that, he spun once in a circle before slowly lowering her just enough so he could wrap one arm around her waist before allowing the other to let go of her legs.

"Merlin, Regina," James said, his voice tinged with wonder. "You look incredible."

Hermione dipped her head to look at herself and registered with embarrassment that she was still in her nightgown. It had sleeves and reached mid-thigh so that it was considerably decent, but it was still flimsy. She slid down a couple of inches against him. "I think I'll go—" James silenced her with a kiss, his head angled perfectly for the contact. It went on and on until he had helped her get her feet back on the ground.

"Were you asleep?" he asked, fingering the satin at her hips.

"Nuh—uh," she mumbled, her hands moving to the back of his neck. "I was busy with something when you rudely interrupted me with a hastily scrawled note."

James grinned. "Mum and Dad just sent my birthday cake. Thought you'd like to have some." He pulled her closer. "Can you stand on your own, or would you rather I whisk you off in my arms?"

"The second, please." James's kisses always left her rather weak and boneless.

He laughed and complied by crooking his arm around the back of her knees and carried her to the couch near the table where he had left the cake, setting her down and taking his place beside her. He busied himself with taking two forks and saucers from the tray.

"James?"

He immediately stopped whatever he was doing to give her his full attention. "Yes, love?"

"You're not mad?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"At whom?"

"At... us," she answered, fidgety. "We, well..." Hermione coloured and finished lamely, "You know."

James broke into another grin. He did know. "Quite disappointed, perhaps. But then again, not really." He put the saucers down and laid his hand instead on her knee. "I know my friends, Regina. They will come through. They always do."

Hermione bit her lower lip. That was just like him, so very trusting. James would back his friends up if they said the sky was green. "But they did not today."

"True, but they will," James assured her. "They might tomorrow, or they might next year. But they will." His other hand dropped the forks, and he used it to tilt her chin up to him. "As for you, hearing you say you love me is gift enough for all my remaining birthdays." And as though to finalise matters and rest all her worries, he kissed her.

Glowing, Hermione enclosed him in a warm embrace. "Then let me say it again. I do love you, James. I feel so... so blessed to be with you."

Tender lips touched her forehead. "It's the same for me. I feel so happy; it's like there's this fire inside me that no one can put out. It's like nothing can ever go wrong with you beside me."

There was silence for some time, both of them absorbing what had just been said. "Do you realise," Hermione said quietly, the idea just barely dawning on her, "that tomorrow would be one month since the first time you told me you love me?"

"Now that you mention it," James responded in a low voice, almost apologetically. "The date slipped my mind. I guess love has a way of losing sense of all time."

_Isn't that the truth._ Hermione removed his glasses and stared deeply into his eyes. "I wouldn't mind you forgetting to keep track of the dates as long as you remember you love me."

"Deal," James agreed huskily, planting a chaste kiss on her nose. Hermione laughed breathlessly and squirmed against him, trying to extricate from her pocket the doll she had brought.

"I actually have something for you, James." Hermione pulled it out and showed it to him. "Here," she said. "In memory of that time in Transfiguration."

James reached out and held her hand even as it grasped the doll, turning it this way and that. A couple more seconds passed before he recalled what she was talking about. The time when they weren't together yet seemed like a lifetime ago; he almost couldn't remember being without her. "I didn't fancy Snivellus could make a romantic inspiration," he teased, "but thank you." He pretended to survey the doll more closely and added jokingly, "Even without my glasses, I can say that he's rather handsome, isn't he?"

Hermione laughed again and swatted him on his arm. "Touch his cheek, James. Or rather, touch _your_ cheek," she amended. She guided his thumb to his miniature's version face and passed it over one side of its face, and it reverted once more to paper.

"Ingenious," James remarked, turning to her momentarily and kissing her lightly. "I always knew you were smart of course, since you chose to be with me."

"Stop being an arrogant prat, James, and read what I wrote first," Hermione insisted, giggling uncontrollably now as she replaced his glasses. She moved the arm that remained around his torso and wriggled her fingers. "Or I'll tickle you to death."

James laughed at this threat and focused on reading the letters written in a graceful script.

_Happy birthday to the most handsome_—

"Like I said," he remarked, grinning slyly at her. "The little fellow _is_ devastatingly good-looking."

Hermione drummed her fingers on a softer spot on his waist in the beginnings of a tickle, and he twitched a little and chuckled in response. "Okay, okay. I get the hint."

_Happy birthday to the most handsome and most intelligent guy Hogwarts has ever seen—or will ever do! I keep thanking my lucky stars every night for having you in my life. Know that whatever happens, I love you. I love you, James. I love you, I love you!_

All my heart, Regina

The playful look on James's face had given way to seriousness as he read the last few words. With his eyes taking on a new fire, he turned to her. Her expression had changed too, and he could feel her tense. She also looked somewhat apprehensive, as though she had just put everything she had on the line. _In a way,_ James thought, _she did._

"I love you too, Regina. With all my life."

Hermione went almost limp with relief in his arms, and to reaffirm what he had just said, he kissed her. Tentatively at first, and then more confidently as it deepened. James marvelled at how kissing her was just as exciting and as passionate as the first time, if not even more. It was as though there was always something new and wonderful to discover about being with her, and he loved her all the more for it. He adjusted himself so he could lay her on her back—slowly, languorously—and pressed her down on the couch, all thoughts of the cake forgotten.

They snogged blissfully for another half an hour or so, James taking care to explore each crevice of her mouth as her hands tried to familiarise themselves with his body. Dimly, James was aware of the fifth years leaving them in a huff, but then he felt her hands explore his back in sensuous circles as she coaxed him nearer, and he didn't care about them. He didn't care about anyone or anything else. His lips left hers only to blaze a path down her neck and even lower. The heat of his body merged with hers seemed to dissolve the thin material of her dress, and Hermione was a bundle of nerves everywhere he touched.

"So pliant," James murmured huskily, his right hand fiddling with the lacy hem of her nightgown and his left clasped with hers, dangling from the couch. He traced with the tip of his tongue the skin on her chest bordered by her shirt's neckline, and she gave a little gasp, dizzied with pleasure. She didn't want him to stop, but she wasn't sure she could control what might come next. Hermione squeezed his hand, and he lifted his head to meet her eyes.

"I'm hungry," she said, smiling lovingly at him and yet dissipating some of the moment's passion. "You told me I could have some cake."

"And so you could," James agreed, outlining her curves with his palm. "All this activity's making me hungry as well. But right now, I only have an appetite for you."

Hermione laughed. If anybody else had said that to her, it would have sounded so lame. But James, with his smouldering eyes and wickedly sexy smile, pulled it off. He sampled that delicate portion where her neck and ear met, tantalising her, and she felt the heat rise once more.

"Hmmm. Sweet. Just like I expected." He swung his leg to the floor and help her sit up along with him.

Her cheeks were flushed, but she managed to speak. "Like cake, you mean?"

James pulled her to him so that she was leaning against his body once again. "Like honey and chocolate and all the good things." With one hand, he pried open the lid off the cake's box and found, to his embarrassment, seventeen candles, all of which instantly lit up. Amidst the fluffy swirls of chocolate frosting topped with marshmallows were written, in white icing: _Happy birthday, son! Know that you make us proud everyday. Love, Mum and Dad._

"Really, I'm too old for this," he complained laughingly, and Hermione giggled as well. "My parents..."

"Love you very much," Hermione finished. "Come on, blow the candles. I want my cake now."

"I thought this was my cake?" James ribbed. She raised one intimidating brow, and he tweaked her nose. "But of course, what's mine is yours." He opened his mouth and exaggerated taking in enough air to bloat his cheeks, but Hermione caught his arm just before he expelled it.

"Be sure to make a wish first."

James shrugged as he deflated his face. "Birthday wishes are for gullible children. They don't really come true."

"Who says they don't?" Hermione challenged. "Magic greater and deeper than we know works in mysterious ways."

That was true. She had a point, as usual. He sighed, closed her eyes and inhaled more seriously this time even as his brain turned wheels. What did he want? He had this wonderful woman, the one he loved, beside him, and so he had everything. What else could he possibly wish for?

_For things to forever stay the same. For her to stay with me, always._ James smiled and opened his eyes, extinguishing all seventeen tiny flames in one breath.

"What did you wish for?" Hermione enquired curiously, snuggling closer to him.

"If I tell you, then it might not come true," James reasoned. "I'm supposed to keep it a secret."

Hermione chuckled. "I thought you don't believe in birthday wishes."

He shook his head vehemently. "There's no way I'm going to take my chances with this one."

She fell silent, knowing in that instant what he had asked for. She briefly closed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer for it to come true.

James sliced a small piece of cake, pierced it with a fork and held it up to her mouth. "Besides, with you right here, I'm perfectly content. I couldn't ask for anything more."

Hermione smiled and kissed him, overwhelmed with love and happiness, before biting into the moist, sumptuous chocolate. It was the best she had ever tasted, and she savoured every bit of it.

* * *

Sirius traipsed down the stairs to the common room early Saturday morning, grumbling and almost tripping on his feet. He despised getting out of bed without his leisure, but Remus and Peter had both been insistent in saying they had to sneak into Hogsmeade to buy what they needed for tonight's party.

He stopped at the sight that greeted him, wondering if he was still caught up in some nightmare, causing Peter to walk straight into him from behind.

"Ow!" Peter exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder and grimacing. Remus shushed him immediately, his blue eyes also riveted by the same scene that had caught Sirius' attention.

Sleeping on a long couch with fingers intertwined were James and Hermione. His jaw rested atop her head, and her arm was wrapped securely, almost possessively, around his upper body. Together, the two painted a picture of love and intimacy and rightful belonging.

"Wow," Peter breathed this time. "They look good together. It really must be love."

Sirius remained rooted to the spot, her sincere words reverberating in his head.

_I would never do anything to hurt him._

"I guess she couldn't refuse James, could she?" Remus opined softly, smiling faintly.

There was a pause before Sirius spoke gruffly, "That's enough, Moony. Wormtail. We've got lots to do." He marched to the portrait hole and climbed out, but his mind's eye was still on the peaceful look he had seen on his best friend's face. Even asleep, James's face was alight with joy.

* * *

"Just a little higher," Remus instructed a fourth-year as he attempted to hang a large red banner with the golden letters _HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JAMES! _emblazoned on it. "Move it to the right... No, you overdid it. There. Perfect." He glanced at Hermione, who was standing a few feet away from him. "What do you think?"

"It's good," Hermione remarked. She looked around her one more time, taking in the entirety of her surroundings. The curtains had been adorned with balloons that were making popping sounds every now and then, and the tables in the common room were overflowing with bottles of butterbeer, Honeydukes sweets and food nicked from the school kitchen.

"A small party?" Hermione had exclaimed in disbelief after climbing into the portrait hole and seeing the preparations around her.

Remus chuckled. "Sirius changed his mind," he had told her. "Thought it would be best to have a grand party. I figured he felt guilty about ignoring James's birthday on purpose."

The Marauders had indeed gone all out with Sirius shouldering the expenses. On one table alone were five cakes, all baked spelling out James's name. Fast-paced music was now blaring from some invisible sound system, and the Gryffindors were either dancing, drinking or eating or a combination of all three thereof.

A high-pitched shriek from a large painting of a sinking ship abruptly interrupted the commotion. The Fat Lady had momentarily left her portrait at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room to warn the students inside about James's arrival.

"He's coming! He's coming!" she shouted excitedly before jumping off to a small rescue boat. She missed it by some feet, however, and ended up in the ocean. Horrified, everyone screamed for help, and the rescue boat rowed faster to get to her until one man assisted her on board. The boat slowly travelled out of sight, presumably to return the Fat Lady to where she belonged.

Sirius clapped his hands loudly for attention. "Okay, everyone. This was what we all had talked about. Quiet!" He glared at them with such ferocity that one could either cower or giggle at him, but it still had the desired effect. The room quieted down, and only half a minute later, they heard James's voice ask, "Fancied a swim?"

The Fat Lady sniffed audibly but replied in a dignified voice, "Password?"

"Mandragora," a female voice answered this time.

"Wrong."

"Wrong?" The whole common room could almost see Lily whirling to face James in irritation. "Did _you_ change the password again, Potter?" There was a pause, after which Lily raised her voice a notch. "Didn't we agree that it was _my_ turn to choose the password for the week?"

"Well, you choose the most boring passwords," they heard James explain glibly. "Besides, the Fat Lady liked mine more."

"Go on," Lily dared him. "What is it then?"

"James Potter," James confidently said. At once, the portrait swung open to admit them. Lily gave a little scream of frustration, pushed James out of the way and clambered in first, followed by the protesting Head Boy.

"Hey, she agreed—" His words were cut off by a jet of confetti shot straight at him. "Ugh—what was that?"

"Oops, I must have rotated the nozzle," a small brown-haired boy said sheepishly. He corrected this and pulled the trigger of the confetti gun once more, causing more squiggly shapes in different colours to erupt in a shower just as everybody present shouted the words together.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

James's expression of surprise was classic; his jaw dropped by a couple of inches and his glasses almost slid down his nose. He adjusted them, his face scrunched up as though unable to believe what was happening and his eyes roving around the room in search of his friends even as everybody started singing a birthday song. Sirius stepped forward, wrapped him in a brotherly embrace and clapped him on the back.

"Happy birthday, mate."

"You idiot!" James uttered a booming laugh as he returned the embrace.

"You thought we'd really forgotten, didn't you?" Sirius asked as Remus and Peter joined them, arms around each other's shoulders.

James shook his head. "Nah. I never doubted you remembered." He laughed at Sirius' sceptical look. "No, really Padfoot. I knew you'd come through. It was only a matter of time when." He hugged the other Marauders and thanked them. Several Gryffindors approached James afterwards to wish him well before helping themselves to the food and drinks laid out on the tables. Somewhere in the midst of chaos, Lily had sneaked out of the common room to her dormitory, having had no desire to partake in the celebrations.

When James was finally free of his well-wishers, he found Hermione standing in a corner and smiling mysteriously at him. He approached her, grinning himself. "You knew all the time, didn't you? That was why you didn't greet me yesterday?"

"I did greet you," Hermione answered. "It was on that letter I wrote you. I was under orders not to say it, so I wrote it instead."

James laughed, pulling her close to him. "Brilliant, as always. But never mind. It was worth the wait." He kissed her temple and said, "I'm surprised Sirius didn't bite your head off for spending yesterday with me."

"You would have mine first even before I attempt it, Prongs," Sirius commented, overhearing what the other black-haired boy said. Hermione laughed at this, and as she met his ice-grey eyes, another look of understanding passed between them.

The couple was handed a drink by Peter, who had come to stand beside them. Sirius took his wand out and cast the Sonorus charm on himself. "Gryffindors," he called authoritatively. He raised his bottle of butterbeer and motioned for those who had one to do the same. "I propose a toast to the birthday boy, my best friend, James Potter. May he have long life, good health and love." At the last word, his glance strayed to Hermione, who merely smiled. "To James Potter."

"To James Potter," everyone else echoed before draining their drinks.

After an hour or so of merrymaking, majority of the students decided to head back to their own dormitories. Soon it were only the Marauders and Hermione left in the common room to tidy up.

"Well, looks like it's just us again, the way it started," Sirius said as he made all the empty bottles of butterbeer disappear with one wave of his wand.

Remus blinked in surprise. "Where did they all go?"

"To the kitchens, you dummy."

When the common room was clean enough for it to be recognisable, Sirius, Peter and Remus took a break from cleaning and used the opportunity to thrust their gifts into James's hands. Without delay, he tore open the glossy wrappings of each package. Remus had, predictably, given him a book.

Sirius rolled his eyes as James turned _Quidditch though the Ages_ over in his hands. "I told Remus not to buy that. Said you wouldn't waste one second reading it."

It was true that he preferred playing the sport than reading about it, but after the feelings of worry and dejection that he had endured over the past few days, James thought the book was the most interesting he had ever seen. "This is terrific, Moony. What better way place to look for strategies other than the past?"

Peter had gotten him socks of red and gold, which James appreciated very much knowing that his friend had never had enough money on him. He opened Sirius' gift to find a box that seemed to contain something that made funny noises. He held it up to his ear. "What is it?"

"Why don't you open it and see?" Sirius returned with a challenging smile.

The birthday boy raised his brows but pulled open the lid. Free of its confinement, the golden ball quickly flapped its wings and soared out. With inordinately quick reflexes, James closed his hand upon the Snitch as it hovered two feet above his head. Peter clapped his hands with delight.

"Why of all things did you get me a Snitch?" James asked his best friend, still grasping the struggling ball in his hand.

To everyone's surprise, Sirius stepped forward and embraced him one more time. "So you wouldn't nick one anymore," he answered merrily. He glanced at Hermione, who was watching the scene with distant affection. "Now, don't you have something for him?"

"Something else?" James asked expectantly as he returned the Snitch inside its box. "Aside from last night?"

Hermione blushed. The way he said it made it sound as though it was something very private between them. She reached into her pocket for the gift and handed it to him. "Here," she said, brushing his lips with a soft kiss. "Happy birthday."

His hazel eyes locked in on hers as they silently communicated their love for each other while he slowly stripped off the wrapper to reveal the velvet box. "Not another Snitch, I hope?" he joked. He flipped the top open and saw a watch inside, the very thing his parents opted against giving him. He took it out, admiring the way it reflected light, and turned to Hermione. He wanted to ask her how she had gotten the money to buy one for him but resolved that for the meantime, it didn't matter.

"Let me put it on you," Hermione suggested, taking another step so that she was by his side. She encircled his wrist with the watch's bracelet and locked the latch closed. "It's supposed to be a coming-of-age gift, something to guide you in your decisions in life. I know you turned eighteen this year, but I've never seen you with a watch on your wrist, so I thought..."

This time, he kissed her. "Thank you, love. It's beautiful." James felt like his heart would burst from being with the most important people in his life. "I want to propose another toast," he said, the other Marauders forming a circle with him and Hermione. "To brotherhood, friendship and loyalty. To always coming through for one another."

Hermione instinctively turned to look at Peter, who was staring at James with so much adoration that it broke her heart. _It must happen. It must._

"To the Marauders."

* * *

March slid to a close with the announcement that their N.E.W.T.s would take place on the third week of May.

"That's only one week after the Quidditch final!" James exclaimed beside Hermione over dinner.

"Oh, come on, Prongs. You don't need to study any more than I do," Sirius said, helping himself to another serving.

Remus shifted in his seat and turned towards him with a expression of surprise and stern reproach. "You mean _you_ haven't started studying?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't need to, Moony, because I already know it all."

"Well, if you really want to study, you can start now and call Quidditch practices every now and then," Hermione suggested mildly.

James smiled. "That was just what I was thinking," he said. "We really are of one mind."

Hermione's smile radiated love and bliss. She rested her cheek on his shoulder; he spooned some of his pudding and held it to her mouth, which she daintily accepted. Her face glowed with contentment, and she encircled his large frame with her arm. "I love you, James," she whispered into his ear.

Sirius saw James undeniably light up from within at those words.

"I love you too, Regina," he returned, feeling that familiar rush of exhilaration. He caught Sirius' eyes and grinned.

He tugged at the ends of his long black hair and managed a weak smile as he continued to watch them. James had been correct when he said that Regina made him happy. There was no denying it—his best friend and Regina truly were in love with each other. No, he did not concede to this fact only because they kept on kissing and touching and holding hands everywhere. Those were the sort of things even people who were not in love with each other did anyway, based on his personal experience. Pure, romantic love, from what Sirius had seen from James's parents, seemed to be more properly characterised by something untouchable, something more sublime. James and Regina seemed to care so deeply for each other, like they were swathed in something warm, soft. Something secure.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked from his left. "You seem quiet tonight."

Sirius shrugged himself out of his reverie. _You're beginning to act bloody lovesick_, he warned himself. _Forget James and just focus on your dinner._ He bit into his chicken and replied, "Something just had me thinking. But I'm fine." The tangy goodness of the meat made him forget all about his previous ruminations, and he reached for a third piece.

* * *

"Oh, bugger," James muttered to himself as the staircases changed unexpectedly, delaying his return to Gryffindor tower after his rounds. He had, as usual, passed by the kitchens on his way back to get the two cups of chocolate Tinky had prepared for him. He had a feeling the house-elf was disappointed on all those nights he had neglected stopping by and decided to do so tonight, much to her delight.

When the stairs had stopped and anchored itself to solid ground, he stepped from the last rung and walked along the corridor, unconcerned by the its unfamiliarity. _There must be a way out of here somewhere_. He continued on this path, tray in his hands, until he reached a vast silver door at the end of the hallway.

"A dead end," he sighed. _Or maybe not._ He tried to picture the map in his head but could not locate where he was, nor could he recall ever being in this place in the castle at all. He scrutinised the door and saw that it was unlocked. A slow smile spread over his face as the marauder in him saw all the glorious possibilities. "What does a secret door lead to? A secret room, that's what."

_Do you dare?_ a tiny voice inside his head asked.

_I'm James Potter. Of course I dare_, he shot back. Besides, if it had been left unlocked, how could it be dangerous? Nevertheless, he took a deep breath as though it would ready him for whatever was inside. He took hold of the door's lever and pulled it down, bracing for the worst.

It was a room so dark one could hardly see anything, and yet James could sense the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and the dust covering every surface. He balanced the tray on one hand and reached for his wand with another. "_Lumos_." The little light that the end of the wood emitted was enough to illuminate his surroundings and confirm his suspicions.

_Where am I?_ Now he was certain that he had never set foot in this place at Hogwarts in all of his seven years at the school. The map they had created wasn't perfect, after all. He cast his eyes around, and its emptiness mystified him. Why would the school allot a room to store nothing in it? To collect dust? He let out a low chuckle even as he noticed the torches that lined the walls. With one slash of his wand through the air, all the torches were lit with fire, and the room was suddenly immensely bright.

That was when he noticed an oval contraption on a stand in a corner. Cautiously, he approached it until he was facing its other side. His brows twitched in surprise.

He was standing in front of a mirror.

And it didn't seem to be just another mirror. Adorning it on top were letters embossed elaborately. James squinted at them, trying to decipher what they said but failing to make either head or tail of it: _erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ His eyes travelled down the entire length of the mirror, and as he did so he saw himself just as he was, holding the tray in his hands._Well, it wasn't as though I expected anything else_.

He was about to turn around and leave the room when his image began to blur around the edges. Stunned, he watched as it completely faded and was replaced by another, also of him. Only... He stepped closer. He didn't have the tray in his hands, and he looked somewhat older. James set the tray down on the floor and gazed into the mirror, wondering what the vision meant.

The hazy outline of somebody next to him appeared, and he looked to his left in alarm. There was no one there. He glanced back at the mirror just to make sure and saw, to his astonishment, Regina standing right beside him. He reached out and touched her smiling face, but his fingers only encountered cold glass.

_What is this magic?_

James noted how she also seemed to be years older than she was right now. But it didn't make any difference, he thought, because she was just as beautiful as she was right now. _And she is still with me_, he realised with a jolt as he saw their hands entwined. His heart started beating faster. Could it really be...? Could this mirror actually show the future? He continued to watch in fascination as, like a play unfolding, the image of Regina changed slightly to show her cradling a baby with one arm.

_We're married. We're going to have a family, build our own home, live together. _Strong emotions of wonder, love and understanding coursed through him and made him close his eyes. He inhaled deeply to steady himself. The images were in a way unsettling, for they hit him like lightning, and yet they looked so right, as though they were meant to happen. And he liked it. Now that he thought about it, he could imagine that kind of future.

Beset with all these sentiments, James ran out of the room and raced to find his way to the Gryffindor tower and his dormitory. He needed someone he could talk to, someone to assure him he wasn't dreaming. Nobody he wanted was in the common room, so he dashed up the stairs to hid dormitory. He pushed Sirius' curtains aside without preamble and shook him forcefully. "Padfoot! Wake up! I have something to show you!"

Sirius groaned in his sleep and turned his back on him, but he continued to pound his shoulder.

"Padfoot!"

"What in the name of Merlin are you waking me up for at this time of the night?" Sirius demanded sleepily, finally sitting up.

"I have something to show you," James repeated, yanking Sirius to his feet. "Come on!" He dragged the other boy down the stairs and out of their tower until the latter jerked his arm away irritably.

"I can walk now, okay? Stop lugging me around like a... Like a dog," Sirius said, rolling his bleary eyes. He followed James through a series of stairs and a deserted hallway until they reached a great silver door at its end.

James pushed it open and entered, gesturing that it was safe to enter. Heaving wearily, Sirius stepped into the room as well and rubbed his eyes. When his sight had finally adjusted to the brightness, he found James standing in front of what appeared to be... He walked to his side and peered at it. A mirror.

"You woke me for a mirror?" Sirius complained petulantly, close to stamping his foot.

His best friend tightly grasped his wrist. "It's not just any mirror, Padfoot. Look at it and tell me what you see."

Sirius smacked his palm to his forehead and snorted in resignation. He did as James requested—but saw nothing. "Prongs?" he said hesitantly. "Why can't I see our own reflection?"

"What?" James's own eyes snapped to the mirror once more. Sirius was right. Its surface was as blank as though there was nobody standing in front of it. _What does it mean?_ "But Sirius, a while ago, I saw myself there! Me and Regina together, with a baby..."

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked dubiously. "Maybe you need some sleep." He yawned and added, "I know I need more."

"Concentrate for a moment, Sirius. I need your help here." He bit his lower lip as he thought for a moment. "Maybe it's like a boggart." The idea struck him from nowhere. At Sirius' disbelieving stare, he elaborated, "It's like a boggart in that it doesn't work when it's faced with two people." James stepped aside so that Sirius was alone to look at himself. "There. Now tell me what you see."

"Nothing. Yet. But blimey—" Sirius paused, and a sad expression of longing reshaped his face. "Prongs? You said this showed you..."

"And Regina. With a baby. It's like we're this one happy family," James eagerly finished for him. "You? Is that what you see?"

Sirius shook his head. "No. I see something else." He paused for a heartbeat and turned to James. "I see my family, complete and happy and normal." He gazed wistfully once more at the image on the mirror.

"Oh." James looked crestfallen but added hopefully, "Maybe it does show something different for each person. Let me try again." Sirius moved aside, and James took his place in front of the mirror. Almost instantly, as though it had no doubts whatsoever what to show him, that picture of him and Hermione with a baby nestled in the crook of her arm materialised. His face lit up in a smile. "This is just what I meant. See?"

But the moment Sirius tried to share what he was seeing, it dissolved into nothingness.

"I was right then," James mused aloud. "This mirror shows something unique to each one who looks into it, and it probably only will for two people if they share the same future."

Sirius' forehead wrinkled at the last part of James's statement. "You think this mirror shows the future?" he asked sceptically. "I don't think so, Prongs. My father's dead, remember?" James winced, and he continued, "Besides, mirrors are supposed to reflect something. How can it reflect something no one else has ever seen?"

"I don't know." James shrugged, looking a little lost. "I suppose I shouldn't trust this thing then—whatever it is—as it obviously is under some powerful enchantment." He glanced at Sirius, whom he found with his mouth opening and closing rhythmically as though carefully enunciating some words. "What are you doing, Padfoot?"

"Reading what's written above," he answered, motioning for him to temporarily stop asking questions.

James followed his line of sight and said, "I already tried that. It doesn't make any sense."

Sirius didn't respond to this and went on studying the letters intently. He tried rearranging them in his head in the hope of forming a message, but there were too many letters for him to keep track of. He pursed his lips. _A mirror_, he reminded himself. _This is a mirror_. On impulse, he decided to attempt reading the letters backward. _I show... not your face... but... your heart's desire..._ His eyes widened in realisation, and he read the words again.

"Prongs, I've got it!" Sirius announced triumphantly. "It reads, _I show not your face but your heart's desire_. It's written in reverse. You know, mirror language."

"Not my face but my heart's desire," James repeated in a thoughtful mutter. "It's just like the reverse of a boggart then; instead of showing you what you fear, it shows you what you've been wishing for." He looked keenly at Sirius and said, "You mean you want your family to be that way? Happy and normal?" Immediately, he cringed inwardly at his lack of tact, but Sirius did not seem to mind his choice of words.

"And you," Sirius countered, a smirk on his face now. "You dream of marrying Regina and having a family with her? It is your _heart's_ desire?"

James coloured. When his best friend put it that way, it sounded awfully embarrassing. And yet... He conjured for himself the image the mirror had shown him, and he felt like he was going to melt from the warmth that glowed inside him.

"You don't have to answer, Prongs. It's written all over your face."

James smiled sheepishly. Sirius did not know how the idea had taken root even before and was now slowly blossoming. If his heart's desire was a plant, then the mirror had simply watered it and made sure it sprouted healthy. But mirror or no, he was certain he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Regina Weisz.

"I know," he admitted._ There are some things that just hit you, and you know nothing could be more perfect._ "And I'm sure it's the right one."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I want to thank everybody who has been reading and/or reviewing; thanks for sticking with this story thus far! I also want to let those who have been leaving me PMs and emails that I really appreciate your asking about the next chapter. I'm quite flattered, really! Haha. :) As early as now, I'm letting you know that I won't be updating for at least until after a month. hides I'm sorry, but I'm really going to be busy with school. If it's any consolation, the next chapter will be just as long as this one to incorporate all the necessary details.

The doll and the Mirror of Erised will be somewhat important later on, but then again, so will the watch. And maybe even the broomstick, and the old witch at Dervish and Banges, and Sirius' acceptance of the romance. Haha. Sometimes I have a hard time keeping track of what to include for future reference. Oh, and I also made up the rationale behind the watch, and the contradiction of the boggart and the Mirror of Erised is one concept that has been growing on my mind for some time now.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Happy holidays. :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** After a (very) long vacation, I present you Chapter 20. It's supposed to be longer, but I got several requests saying that they'd prefer shorter chapters if it meant I would update faster, so here it is. Kinda transitional, but I think it'll make the whole story work. :)

**Chapter Summary: **It is 1979, and Hermione has stubbornly braved the odds to get to where she is: happy with James and ready to spend her life with him, should he ask. But as the war looms, it demands sacrifices—and even those who know their history won't be saved.

* * *

**Chapter 20: There is a War**

_May it be the evening star shines down upon you  
May it be when darkness falls  
Your heart will be true.  
You walk a lonely road.  
Oh, how far you are from home!  
Darkness has come  
Darkness has fallen  
A promise lives within you now._

_-- _ Enya _(May It Be) --_

"Moony, can you please lend me your _Advanced Potion-Making_?" Peter said tentatively.

Remus lifted his blue eyes from the text on his lap, although with much difficulty. He normally did not tolerate any form of nuisance whenever he was engrossed in reading, but he made exceptions for his friends. "Why, whatever happened to your book?"

"I splattered it with bubotuber pus," Sirius answered flippantly, leaning back into the couch and crossing his legs elegantly. At Remus' raised brow, he added, "Accidentally, of course. And I didn't know the pages would shrivel up."

Snorting in amusement, Remus said, "Well, at least you've added something to your arsenal of knowledge. And Peter, my book's still with Regina." He nodded towards the couch by the fire.

Sirius groaned at the sight of the girl reading and looked around the common room. His fellow Gryffindors were hard at work as well, and he slumped in his seat in disgust. "Moony, tell me. Did you inspire this sudden bout of studying?"

"No. It's just that time of the year, Padfoot," Remus replied patiently, turning his book to the next page. "It comes around like flu during April, and you've always been rather naive to it. Even now, with our N.E.W.T.s fast approaching."

Peter waited for Sirius to have his say, but when the black-haired boy merely rolled his eyes, he jumped at the opportunity to speak. "Er—Remus, can I have it when she's finished?"

"Of course." Remus did not look up this time.

"You can get it right now if you want, you know," Sirius said dryly. "It looks like she's busy with something else."

Peter turned to look at Hermione, and even Remus paused from his reading to see what Sirius was talking about. The three watched as she held her palm up to her face and gazed at something apparently resting on it; she toyed with it for several more moments before taking her wand out and prodding whatever it was. Peter gave a little squeak of surprise when, in the blink of an eye, Hermione was grasping a parchment. Her lively brown eyes danced over the page, and she smiled; she tapped it with her wand once again, and the parchment vanished.

"That's good magic," Peter said appreciatively.

"It's not even remotely useful," Sirius grumbled, still smarting from Remus' earlier comments. "I mean, sure, if you need to conjure one to make airplanes and attack Snivellus with, yeah."

Remus smiled. "She didn't Conjure anything, Padfoot. She merely Transformed one object to another. I wonder what it is."

As if on cue, Hermione closed the book, stood up and walked over to them. She handed Remus the book with her left hand, her right in a fist. "Thanks for the book, Remus. If you don't mind, can I borrow your _Advanced Transfiguration _tomorrow night?"

"Only if you tell us what's that you're holding," Remus answered with a mischievous smile. "We saw you playing with it a while ago."

The stunned look on Hermione's face dissolved into a sheepish smile. "Oh, this?" She laid her palm open to three pairs of eyes; on it was a tiny doll that resembled her.

"That's you," Peter said, stricken. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Don't tell me you're now learning dark magic?"

_Really! _Hermione pursed her lips in slight annoyance. "No, Peter," she said. "James made it and gave it to me at lunch." She retrieved her wand from her pocket once again and briskly tapped the doll. "It becomes a parchment, see."

Sirius grunted, reflecting once again on how silly his best friend had become over Regina. He might already be tolerant of this romantic relationship, but that didn't mean he could not make fun of it as much as he could. "I guess it doubles as a love letter?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed immediately. She tapped it hurriedly; the parchment returned to being a doll, and she slipped it into her pocket. "Of course not."

"Of course not," Sirius repeated with a smirk, and Remus elbowed him to keep him quiet. "Perhaps it's the nightly schedule of books you need to borrow from Moony to ace the exams?"

Hermione stared in disbelief for several seconds before lowering her head in apparent embarrassment. "I'm turning in. Good night."

She turned on her heels and started to walk away, but Peter called, "So it's a letter?"

"A love letter, obviously." Sirius' tone left no doubt that it wasn't a question, and Hermione stopped in her tracks.

All three of them were grinning roguishly. Hermione didn't know whether to smile or snort, but the scales tipped to amusement, and she shook her head in resignation. That seemed to encourage Peter to make another wisecrack, for he said, "Aren't you going to wait up for James?"

The name alone brightened Hermione's smile. "I wanted to, but if you are going to give me a difficult time about it..."

"Right, we'll stop then," Sirius said, holding up both hands in surrender. "James won't forgive us if he hears we've failed to do as his lady wishes." He chuckled, gestured to the couch and added, "Go ahead. Be our guest."

Hermione laughed at Sirius' words. "When you put it that way..." She walked back to them and plopped down beside Remus, cautiously waiting for them to speak anew.

Remus turned to her and softly enquired, "So it was _actually_ a love letter?"

"I can't believe it!" Hermione complained, slapping Remus playfully on the arm. "You, of all people, broke your promise not to ask me about it!"

"Sirius has this habit of making plans and promises for the rest of us," Remus reasoned out. "But without getting sidetracked, was it really a love letter?"

Hermione sighed and relaxed on the couch in confession. "Yeah." She briefly closed her eyes and, with a dreamy smile on her face, repeated, "Yeah."

"What does it say?" Peter asked eagerly.

"It says he loves her, of course," Sirius replied, striving to keep his sarcasm to a minimum.

"I knew that," Peter said in a huff. "But there's got to be something else, right?"

Remus glared pointedly at Peter. "Now _that_'s none of our business." But his blue eyes kept darting little glances at Hermione, who seemed oblivious to them.

Sirius, meanwhile, was also occupied with watching Hermione, noting how she kept exhaling little breaths as though trying to contain her giddiness. _I wonder..._ When his eyes locked with hers, and Sirius realised with startling clarity that the sparkle in those dark orbs were exactly like James's while they were standing in front of that dark mirror. A wry smile escaped Sirius. Could he already have told her?

"Frankly, I didn't expect James to be that creative," Remus was saying, and Sirius tuned back in. "The last time he made a doll, it was of Snape."

That made Hermione laugh again. "I actually made him one first, one that looked like him and could turn into a letter. I gave it to him on his birthday."

"So that was why he decided to make one himself," Peter concluded, the realisation dawning on him. "They must match then, like figures atop a wedding cake!"

Sirius dropped his legs from the table in surprise, and Hermione straightened in her seat.

"W-w-wedding?" Hermione sputtered.

"Wedding cake? James has told you he wants to marry Regina?" Sirius interjected, visibly rattled. "And you're already thinking about the reception!"

Peter gaped in shock as he attempted to understand Sirius' prattle. "James told me what?"

"What did James tell you?" Hermione demanded from Sirius, astonished.

Sirius scratched his head, dumbfounded; as his mind cleared, he felt increasingly more stupid. "So James has not told you anything yet?"

Peter simply continued staring at the black-haired Marauder in confusion.

"Wait," Remus intervened, looking slightly befuddled himself. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" He glanced at Peter. "You said something about a wedding cake—"

"Because of the dolls," Peter supplied helpfully.

Remus nodded. "And then everybody went berserk."

"I did not," Sirius denied, running a hand through his hair in a show of nonchalance.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Right. You just reacted too strongly then."

"Sirius," Hermione began earnestly.

He eyed her warily.

"Did James really say he wanted to marry me?"

Remus inwardly flinched at the expectant smile and at the soft, hopeful expression illuminating her face. He turned to Sirius. "Did he indeed?"

Sirius smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand and groaned. "This is not the way Prongs would have wanted you to find out."

Hermione chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip before saying, "So he did say that? Really did?"

"Yeah." _Now James is really going to kill me._

"Oh." It was all she could say. Hermione laced her fingers together and leaned back on the couch, trying to hide a smile she could not. She kept her eyes on the carpet, suddenly feeling too shy to look at the Marauders.

"Wow," Peter breathed. "Wow."

Remus had to lick his lips several times before being able to speak. "How did you know, Padfoot?"

Sirius shrugged. "You don't need to know that," he answered glibly, eliciting a rare frown from Remus. "I don't have any intention of giving away anything else. But what I know, Regina—"

Hermione looked up in curiosity.

"—is that you make my best friend happy. Very happy, in fact, that he can see sharing his future with you."

Flushed and aware that they were waiting for her to say something, Hermione wondered how best to respond. It was too much to take in all at once. _James wants me as his..._ She swallowed nervously. _Wife?_ Why was she so surprised? This was what she had come back for, wasn't it? Yet four months ago, while making the Time-Turner, had she even entertained such wild imaginings? Walking down the aisle with him, clad in a splendid white dress, pledging to love him forever...

It was bliss, pure bliss, and Hermione knew she should feel as though she was soaring through the clouds, but something was weighing her down. Either that, or the clouds were grey. She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear as she thought hard.

"You're daydreaming," Peter teased, amused by the rapidly shifting emotions showing on her face.

Despite herself, Hermione smiled faintly at Peter's jibe. He might be a traitor in her day, but tonight he was just a boy, a true-to-mould Marauder when it came to humour.

"About me, of course," a voice that was distinctly James's inferred. Starting guiltily, the four turned to see him towering shortly over them before sliding beside Hermione, whose eyes were still lost in her own musings. James immediately reached for Hermione's left hand and held it in his, glancing around at his friends. "So what have you been up to?"

"Studying," Sirius answered promptly, grabbing one of the books on the table, flipping it open and pretending to read. If he could avoid talking to James tonight, he would be in the clear.

James sniggered. "It's upside-down, Padfoot." He nudged Hermione to get her attention and said, "Don't tell me you've been studying too?"

Hermione found it difficult to look into James's eyes—or to even breathe or speak with him beside her, for that matter. It was as though the awkwardness that could only be brought about by a new relationship had come over her again. "Until a few minutes ago, yes," she answered anyway, her words barely above a whisper.

Perhaps sensing her discomfort, James raised his other hand and lightly touched her cheek; he was surprised to find it warm. "You're blushing."

At these words, he felt her skin heat up. Puzzled, he asked, "Did something happen?"

She angled her head so that she wasn't looking at him, so that she could avoid those hazel eyes that were gazing at her with so much love and tenderness. "It's nothing, James."

"Hmm. You must be tired, having to wait up for me." He cupped her chin and turned her face back so he could see her better. "But you don't look tired," James commented, now tracing her jaw line with his index finger.

Hermione smiled faintly. "What then do I look like, James?"

"Beautiful, as always," James answered, punctuating his statement with a quick kiss, "but more so this time. Like a... like a bride or something." The words were out of his mouth before he had decided on their wisdom, and they recalled to mind the image he had seen in the mirror. _But to say it like that!_ James scolded himself in panic.

Unbeknownst to them, the other Marauders had abandoned all pretence of reading and were listening more carefully to their conversation.

Never before had her heart pounded so loudly. So it was true then, what Sirius had said. Nonetheless, she pushed his glasses up his nose and grinned, deciding to make light of the situation. "A bride? I didn't think you could improve on your flattery, James, but that was the most lovely compliment you've given me."

"I meant it, Regina," James asserted. _Better to have her think I'm going too far than that I'm being dishonest. _He reached into his robes and pulled out a sprig of flowers, an assortment of roses and chrysanthemums he'd obviously picked from the grounds. "Oh, this is for you."

"Thank you," Hermione automatically said, taking them and smiling coyly up at him. "But what are these for?"

James dusted a kiss on her nose. "Nothing, really. It's just that they're beautiful, and so are you."

Hermione stiffened, her breath catching; she had definitely heard those words before.

"Don't you like it?" James asked worriedly. "I picked them myself, if you want to know. I didn't Conjure them out of nowhere."

Hermione suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around him, realising once again how lucky she was. _So sweet and thoughtful._ _Is this why it had seemed so familiar then?_ "I like it, James. I like it very much. Thank you." She brushed his lips with hers and then said, "Is it okay if I turn in now?"

"Of course, love. Whatever you want." James stood up with Hermione, their hands still clasped, and walked her to the bottom of the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory. He enfolded her in an embrace and kissed her good night several times before letting her go with murmurs of sweet nothings.

Upstairs, after what felt like hours of tossing in her bed and unable to coax her mind into sleeping, Hermione sat up and hugged her knees to herself. Whatever thoughts that had earlier been bothering her had been as usual swept aside by James. Inside her head, all she could now see, like some Muggle film playing over and over, were scenes of her and James living the rest of their lives together. There she was, rushing to meet James as he stepped out of the fireplace after work. He would sit at the table she had prepared, and though in reality she was not particularly adept in cooking, he would reward her efforts with an earth-shattering kiss and... Hermione blushed in the darkness. And Merlin, she could imagine children running around the house—two at least, maybe three. She sighed as contentment flowed through her, grabbing her pillow and holding it close to her chest. It would be a good life.

_Is this what fate has in store for me?_

_Oh, please. Didn't you challenge fate,_ a second voice sneered, _proclaiming yourself as master of your destiny?_

_I was right, wasn't I?_ Hermione retorted, however shiftily. _Would fate have allowed me this liberty if it wasn't meant to happen?_

Cold, cynical laughter filled her ears. _And what of the others' fates, intertwined with yours, that you've played with? What will happen to them?_

_You mean Lily and... _Hermione frowned. Strange how difficult it was to remember his name now._ And Harry, of course._ _You mean them, don't you?_ At this reminder of the guilt she should be bearing, Hermione's fingers at once went to her collarbone, caressing herself with widowed sensuality. It was warm without the cold glass nestled at its heart, and the warmth strengthened her resolve.

_Perhaps you sold it on purpose?_ the voice mocked.

"I did not," Hermione said, breaking the silent argument. "I did it for James, and also because I had no use of it anymore. There's no way I'm going back."

The phantom that had invaded her head had the nerve to cackle. _Where has your logic gone, Hermione Granger? Where has your conscience disappeared to? Or has Regina Weisz done away with both?_

Ignoring the disturbing questions, Hermione replaced her pillow and slid back under the covers, pulling them up to her chin and staring at the ceiling. _It's_ _Potter_, she corrected. _Hermione Potter_. And then, almost as an afterthought, _That means I have to tell him sooner or later who I really am._

Somehow, with the assurance of his love, the idea of finally being able to be honest with him didn't seem as frightening at it should have been. _He will understand. I know he will_, Hermione thought as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Several days passed. Hermione had yet to find an instance where she could talk to James—or rather, she had yet to muster enough courage to say the truth she shouldn't have hidden in the first place. It was more difficult in the bright of day, she found, and she felt her resolve weaken to the point that she had almost decided not to tell him anymore. What harm was there in remaining Regina Weisz forever?

There wasn't any, at least none very pressing. It wasn't difficult to imagine sailing through the rest of her life under a name that wasn't hers as long as she kept her identity safe. And that she did... somehow. She still studied as of old, laughed the way she used to, loved as much as she did. Deep within, she knew she was still Hermione Granger.

Minus the rational mind, perhaps, but never had she been happier.

After that night in the common room, during which Sirius had unwittingly revealed James's plans of marrying her, Hermione had noticed a marked increase in the Marauders' watchfulness over her. She had to fight the urge to giggle whenever she caught Remus or Sirius checking her hands for any sign of a ring, with Peter doing so less conspicuously.

"Stop staring, Peter," Hermione chided gently, making the boy squawk and turn red. "I haven't got any ring yet."

"I, well, I only thought... It's been a week, after all." Peter cast a significant look at Sirius, who merely shrugged.

"Hey, I didn't say Prongs planned on asking her anytime soon."

This time, it was Hermione whose cheeks flushed at the idea that she was indeed expecting a proposal from James. Why did the details of her relationship with James have to be out in the open? _I guess it really can't be helped. Having James as a boyfriend is almost like having three others._ She sighed.

"Don't sound so depressed," Sirius said.

Hermione glanced up in surprise, ready with a nasty comeback, but did a double take when she realised that Sirius' smile was actually meant to reassure her. "Er—thanks, but I'm not. Really," she added after being appraised for another moment.

Sirius tilted his head to the left, causing his hair to fall across his forehead in an attractive heap. "James has a lot on his mind right now, what with Quidditch practice and everything. I'm sure you understand."

_Quidditch_, Hermione thought wearily, briefly reminded of Ron and Harry. _It's all they think about_. "Of course I do. James wants the Quidditch Cup so badly, and what with our N.E.W.T.s around the corner, he's got his hands full."

"Not to mention preparing for a career after Hogwarts," Remus added agreeably, a book on his lap.

She considered that. "All of you have taken the required classes for Auror training, haven't you?" Hermione asked. "You've all decided then?"

"The best students in Hogwarts have taken them," Sirius answered, "and we're all applying for Auror training after a few weeks or so."

A wistful smile crossed Hermione's lips as she pictured James as an Auror, aware that he would be the best in the not-so-distant future.

"But James isn't sure he wants to be an Auror, at least not yet," Sirius continued. "He's received invitations from at least three international Quidditch teams, so he might choose to play professional instead."

"Oh." Hermione wondered why she didn't know that. "But I'm sure James would rather be an Auror," she said confidently.

Sirius raised his eyebrows in obvious doubt but said, "Well, if this war against Voldemort goes on, we'll probably need more Aurors than the Ministry can make them."

At these words, Remus stopped reading; the four of them stared into nothingness, suddenly lost in their own thoughts. Earlier that day, the _Daily Prophet_ reported that two more senior Aurors had been killed in combat in a village near Lancashire. Being students, their consciousness of the war was inevitable, but its threat still seemed far to them, barely having come of age and having been protected within the walls of Hogwarts. Sometimes though, they pondered on the garish reality of war: what did it feel like to use magic to kill, to shed blood, to lose a loved one?

Hermione snapped out of her musings and studied the pensive faces of the three Marauders. _There is a war. I've forgotten that there was a war, and now I've landed right in the middle of it. _How strange that she had to witness—and maybe even live through—this, her knowledge of the future unable to allay her fears that in the end, everything would turn out for the better... but not before peaking to their worst.

"Maybe the Ministry is fighting Vol... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—" Peter stuttered.

"Voldemort," Sirius and Remus corrected in unison, the former rather irritably.

"Maybe they are fighting him the wrong way," Peter finished in a weak voice, ignoring their rebuke. "Maybe there isn't supposed to be fighting in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Sirius glowered suspiciously at the smaller boy.

Hermione smiled sadly, watching them spar through words. Already Peter was looking for an easier way out.

History has begun.

* * *

Even so, Hermione marvelled at the normality with which life at Hogwarts proceeded. The Gryffindor common room was filled with people studying until one in the morning, their foreheads wrinkled with concentration as though nothing short of Voldemort could distract them. Even without the prospect of exams, James had his hands full. With less than a month before the Quidditch finale featuring Gryffindor and Slytherin, he had stretched their team's scheduled practices to the limit.

Hermione wondered at this as she watched the team zoom around in blurs of red and gold on Wednesday night, knowing that Gryffindor was two hundred points up and that the team was more inspired than ever with the Bullet in their midst.

Katherine clutched the Quaffle tightly under her arm as she sped towards the hoops, George flying in the same direction but staying several feet from her. They zigzagged towards their goal; Katherine hurled the Quaffle towards George, who accelerated as he faked left. Matthew Witte, the Gryffindor Keeper, fell for it, too far gone to save the ball that was sailing past him to the right hoop. Neil, however, aimed the Bludger at the Quaffle just in time to alter its course, and both Katherine and George yelled in frustration. Apparently, James had teamed up the three Chasers and had put the two Beaters and the Keeper together.

James blew the whistle that hung around his neck, startling even Hermione, who was admiring the athletic grace with which the players moved in the air.

"Excellent defence!" James called, signalling for them to halt play and calling for a short huddle in the air. After five minutes, they landed, their feet lightly touching the ground. Hermione waited as James, still riding his broom, sailed towards her while his teammates headed for the shower.

"Hi," James greeted, his face split in the goofy, confident grin that never failed to make Hermione smile.

"Hi. Here, have this." Hermione rummaged in her pocket for the handkerchief she had brought and reached out to dab James's sweaty face with it.

Surprised but rather pleased, he covered her hand with his and guided it from one cheek to another. "Thanks."

Hermione blushed. "That was a good play up there," she commented.

"I know," James said proudly. "Great offensive thrust, but better defence. We've been coming up with plays like that for days now."

"I can't see any reason why you would lose," Hermione said.

"Me too," James bragged, puffing his chest out, and she laughed. "By the way, what are you doing here?" he innocently asked.

Hermione swatted him on the arm. "You asked me to watch you play, you idiot. And you promised to take my flying after."

"Did I now?" James got off the broom and sat beside her. "I seem to have forgotten," he teased.

"Maybe whacking your head with the broomstick will jog your memory," she threatened, a glint in her eye.

James swiftly pulled her to him in an embrace, and Hermione at once rested her head on his chest. As she felt him ensnare his fingers in her hair, she tickled his waist. "Do you remember now?"

"A little," James said. "But maybe a kiss will completely do the trick."

Hermione looked up and edged away. "And you think you're going to get it that easily?"

"Won't I?" James inched closer, closing the gap between them. "All I have to do is this—" He cupped her face firmly in one hand. "This—" He lowered his head, and just when he was about to claim her mouth, whispered, "And this." He felt her smile as he nibbled on her lower lip before completing his invasion, and Hermione flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him with her head tilted back as though she were drowning. When they paused for breath, James murmured, "Well? That was easy, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed, her eyelashes struggling to flutter open.

"So, do you still fancy that ride?"

"Well, you promised me." She had finally managed to open her eyes, gazing at the hazel ones above her. "But I guess this is just as good as flying. No—better. Incredible."

"What can I say? I always keep my promises." He kissed her again and again, touching her more intimately each time, and as they held each other, the settling darkness heightened each sensation.

It was already a little half past seven when Hermione remembered that both of them were supposed to be inside the castle for dinner.

James groaned against her earlobe. "How can you think about food at a time like this?"

"Believe me, I'd hate for the Head Boy to get into trouble just because he lost track of the time."

He uttered a low chuckle, sweeping brown locks from her forehead before kissing her there and settling her more comfortably on his lap.

"James," Hermione admonished, "we're supposed to be getting ready to leave, not getting more comfy."

He shushed her with his lips and carried her as he mounted the broom, both his legs swinging from one side. At her raised brows, he said, "I'd hate to see the one the Head Boy loves stumble around just because she's intoxicated with his kisses."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How you can be both arrogant and sweet is still beyond me."

James urged the broom up with one hand even as the other pressed her middle to him. "But you find it charming, no doubt."

"Yes, very." Hermione leaned over and kissed him, but he quickly pulled away, shaking his head.

"Not now. You'll get _me_ drunk, and we can't have that when we're flying."

Hermione giggled and put her arms around him instead as they made their way back to the castle, the broom hovering only several feet from the ground. The rest of the ride was comfortably silent, a light breeze matching the solemnity of night. James touched down at the doors to the castle and helped Hermione to her feet. They entered the castle hand in hand and immediately headed for the Great Hall, where they expected dinner to be in full swing.

But no laughter and noisy conversation greeted them; even the clink of silverware was muted, as though they were being handled with utmost care. It was evident that something was amiss. James scanned the rows of House tables, noting that the hall seemed to be significantly lacking in people. He clutched Hermione's hand more tightly, and she squeezed his in return.

Spotting the Marauders, they walked towards them and sat on the benches. The look of relief on Remus' face was in itself alarming. "We thought both of you had been called in as well," he said.

"Where are the other students?" James asked, setting the Bullet on the floor. "Have they gone missing?"

"Their Heads of Houses called them," Remus answered, worried. "Something must've happened, but Professor Dumbledore hasn't said anything yet." They glanced at the High Table and saw that the Headmaster's seat was empty.

"Have something to eat first," Peter offered, pushing a plate towards them. Hermione shook her head and touched James's shoulder; she had just seen Professor McGonagall emerge from a chamber behind the High Table. Her face was especially sombre as she approached the centre of the hall and raised a palm for attention.

The murmurs occupying the room first escalated before hushing, all faces turning towards the Deputy Headmistress in anticipation of the news.

"This afternoon," Professor McGonagall began, enunciating each word clearly, "Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were simultaneously attacked by Death Eaters." Horrified gasps erupted from the students; she paused, as though the time would let some of the terror dissipate, and continued, "More than two hundred people died, and many more are wounded. Some of the victims are your schoolmates' relatives, and the Headmaster is currently arranging the students' travel home. At the same time, it is his express wish that I tell you this, not to frighten you—"

Sirius scowled at his younger brother, sitting at the Slytherin table with an expression of despicable contentment.

"—but to warn you and make you understand the necessity of more stringent security measures." Professor McGonagall's eyes swept the entire room. "No student will be allowed out of their common rooms after eight o'clock, and no student will be allowed wandering out of the castle after six in the evening."

Hermione half-expected James to complain about Quidditch, but his jaw was clenched and he was listening with rapt attention.

"The Forbidden Forest is by all means, out-of-bounds. Aside from our Head Boy and Girl, the Prefects and my colleagues will also patrol the school at night to ensure that nothing untowardly happens." She pressed her lips together, and went on. "Are there any questions?"

Nobody spoke. Each one was deep in their own speculations of how terrible the day's ordeal had been. Almost every pair of eyes were filled with tears, the compassion for the afflicted almost tangible. The tragedy had struck home.

"If there aren't any, then please return to your dormitories immediately. Everyone—" Professor McGonagall announced, "except the Head Boy and Girl and the Prefects. The Headmaster requires a meeting with you."

James, who had not spoken since Professor McGonagall started, turned to give Hermione a quick peck on the cheek before standing up. "I'll see you later."

Hermione snatched three sandwiches from the platter just before it vanished. "Don't worry about dinner; I'll save two for you." He flashed her quick smile before striding away.

She and the rest of the Marauders climbed their way to the Gryffindor tower along with the other students, some of whom had now gotten over their initial shock—at least enough to air their concern that Hogwarts might be attacked soon.

Nobody in the common room was sleeping early that night, but nobody was studying either. Hermione heard a fifth-year wonder how just how many bombs were necessary to shatter Hogwarts' walls, and she crossed her arms in annoyance.

"Have any of you read _Hogwarts, A History_?"

Peter, Remus and Sirius all looked at her as though she had just informed them that Hogwarts had been attacked.

"It won't be in the N.E.W.T.s," Sirius said scornfully.

"I know it won't be," Hermione shot back, her nerves frayed. "Remus? Have you?"

"Er—yeah," Remus admitted, turning pink. "But why did you ask?"

"Because I was hoping that somebody besides me knew that the castle is protected by more than just walls," Hermione said, her voice a shade supercilious. "Many enchantments have been placed on it, and I imagine Professor Dumbledore will strengthen them even more. So I think that the last thing we need right now is panic. It makes people do stupid things."

Sirius countered, "How come you've read _Hogwarts, A History_ before you came here?"

Hermione was surprised; his question came from nowhere. "I did some background check, that's all," she answered evasively.

"So Hogwarts isn't in danger?" Peter asked, wanting to be sure.

"Of course it is," Hermione said impatiently. "We're in the middle of a war." That severity of the situation, of the time she had come back to, hit her the moment news of the attacks did. "But we're not in any more danger than before."

"On the contrary," Remus volunteered quietly, "if Voldemort wants to spread terror by killing people, then wouldn't a massacre of students work for him? The slaughter of the innocents?" They mulled over that one, and Remus continued, "Besides, I think that we, of all people, know that there are chinks in Hogwarts' defensive armour." He smiled wryly. "So I guess Hogwarts isn't as tough as stronghold as it is the books."

Hermione immediately understood what he was implying. "Well, for everybody's safety, I guess you'll have to give up the map."

"That's crazy," Sirius objected at once. "We worked too hard to make that. Besides, I'm confident we're the only ones who know about the secret passageways. Not even Filch knows about them. And we can even use the map to watch out for intruders, so we're definitely not giving it up."

Hermione started to protest but thought better of it. "Never mind. It doesn't matter to me right now." She unwrapped one sandwich and started to eat; halfway through it, James arrived with a tray of steaming cups of hot chocolate.

"One for everyone," James announced, setting the tray on the table and sitting beside Hermione. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Lily and the Prefects had returned with James and had joined their own friends. She took out the remaining sandwiches and offered those to him, which he accepted gratefully.

"So what happened?" Sirius enquired, allowing James but one bite of his food.

James swallowed, gulped some of his drink and wiped his mouth. "Basically what Professor McGonagall said at dinner. Except that..." He frowned. "Dumbledore said something about the deaths being unintentional, that the Death Eaters were in actuality looking for something."

"Which is...?" Remus prompted, taking a sip from his own cup.

"He didn't say." James took another swig of the chocolate.

_Horcrux_. The answer came straight away to Hermione. She set her drink back on the table, her hand trembling. "Did they find it?"

"Nobody knows. Nobody's even sure Voldemort sent them to look for it anyway, whatever it is. But the Headmaster seems really convinced that Hogwarts will be attacked soon, and he's never struck me as a man prone to paranoia." James bit into his bread and chewed on it pensively.

"So you think Voldemort wants something that's hidden in Hogwarts," Remus concluded. "An object of power, obviously."

James didn't answer this time, and Hermione sensed he was holding something back. She cupped his elbow, and he turned to look into her eyes, his own distraught.

"Neil's mum worked in a shop in Diagon Alley," he murmured, his jaw tightening. "She's the only parent he's got, and she's dead now..." His voice slightly cracked, but James mastered his emotions. "And he's only fourteen. I can't imagine having to go through that myself. If it were me..." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "If it were me, I'd want to finish Voldemort off myself. I'd hunt him down and kill him."

They were all shocked at his vicious judgment, but James didn't say anything else. He hastily and savagely finished his dinner, seemingly to avoid any more talk of what had happened.

Later that night, James walked her to the stairs to her dormitory and embraced and kissed her with fierce intensity as though he never wanted to let her go, and Hermione intuitively knew that something had changed within him.

It was most ominous.

* * *

The eerie stillness persisted in Hogwarts over the next few days, the uneasy tranquillity preceding an impending disaster. Dumbledore had assured the students and the public that the wards protecting the castle had been strengthened, and true to their word, the professors vigilantly patrolled both the indoors and outdoors every night. Professor McGonagall visited the common room every night and randomly called out names as though she were merely checking attendance in class. Several adults in with the Ministry's emblem on their robes had also been spotted and excitedly identified as Aurors.

Meanwhile, students caught outside the permissible hours were severely punished with detention, amidst much grumbling and dark muttering.

"If you keep that up," Professor McGonagall warned a fifth year who had been spotted wandering around the last two nights, "I doubt you're going to be here long enough for your O.W.L.s." The student merely scowled at her.

Hermione privately questioned whether nurturing a feeling of unrest within Hogwarts was wise despite the surrounding circumstances. She agreed with James; it wasn't like Dumbledore to display that he was troubled, but perhaps... Perhaps the Headmaster did have something to fear.

"Are you going to wait up for James?" Sirius asked, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. "It's almost ten o'clock, and I'm sleepy."

"Go to bed then," Hermione advised, trying to concentrate on the book Remus had lent her despite her turbulent thoughts, and now Sirius' question had made further studying impossible. "I can't sleep without knowing for sure that James is here, safe."

_Weren't you the one who said we had nothing to worry about?_ Sirius groaned. "How am I going to bed with you making me out to be some insensitive lout."

Remus glanced up from his reading and tossed Sirius a book. "Here, have something to read."

"Thanks. That was thoughtful," Sirius remarked sarcastically. Even so, he opened it and flipped through its pages uninterestedly.

Hermione glanced at the clock above the fireplace. James and Lily were due to arrive from their second rounds any moment now, and at the sounds of approaching footsteps—loud and quick, as though whoever was making them was running—she angled her head expectantly towards the portrait hole.

It burst open, and Hermione stood up. Instead of James, a little boy with blond hair clambered in and almost fell over with haste. He wildly looked around.

"Hey, you!" Sirius snapped the book closed and threw it aside, grateful for a diversion. "What were you doing outside so late in the evening? It's detention for you!"

"Er—you can't give him detention, Sirius," Peter said.

But the little boy wasn't listening to their banter. He was breathing heavily, trying to speak but failing to get a word out.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked him, perceiving his distress. She approached him, put her hands on his shoulders and levelled herself with him so she could look him in the eye. "Tell me, what's wrong?"

He gulped some air and managed, "Death Eaters!" He swallowed again. "Death Eaters!" he repeated more forcefully. "I saw them! Death Eaters! Here! At Hogwarts!"

* * *

James exited a room on the first floor and started up the flight of stairs, knowing his eyelids were on the brink of closing. Completing his assigned rounds was taking its toll on him, even after less time on the pitch and especially after dinner. Since the attacks, the earliest he could return to the common room was ten o'clock.

_That reminds me._ _I'm not allowed to turn in without Lily._ He glanced at the watch on his wrist and laughed aloud. It was the watch that Regina had given him, and with it strapped to his wrist, he always forgot it wasn't there to tell the time. But his body's internal clock was telling him he should rest, so Lily must be on her way back to the Gryffindor tower as well—if she wasn't back already.

James snorted, knowing she wouldn't bother waiting for him and that she was the least bit worried about his safety. But he thought it was almost his obligation as a male to look out for her, so he decided to have a look around first. He stole another look at his watch and wondered aloud, "Right. So where should I check?"

The short hand that had been pointing to twelve moved counterclockwise to nine, and he grinned. "Left, eh? You have a point there." He turned left at the second floor landing, aware that this wasn't exactly Lily's area of responsibility but certain he could never underestimate the redhead's nosiness anyway.

He strolled along the long, carpeted hall, his footsteps muffled. As he passed by another flight of stairs, a sudden motion caught his eye; a second check told him it was nothing.

His instincts screamed differently.

James held his breath, his senses sharper. There it was: the hardly discernible sound of somebody else's footsteps, which stopped almost as soon as he had noticed it. And then there was a change in the air, and then a rush of wind that he knew would strike his right ear, if he let it. He automatically sidestepped, whirling and whipping his wand out of his robes in one fluid motion.

Something crashed behind him, but he didn't look back—couldn't, transfixed with the sight of the enemy before him. An icy shudder passed through him. He knew that the next time he would be asked to describe death, he wouldn't have to think too hard.

The figure was clothed in black and hooded, its outstretched arm holding its wand aloft. That it had missed earlier seemed to mean nothing to it; it was cackling madly, as though the assault had been done in sport and that it had but flexed its fingers in anticipation of enjoyable—to James's mind, deadly—curses.

"Quick reflexes, wittle Potter," a high-pitched voice behind the hood taunted, carelessly tossing its cloak back. "I'm impressed—but you are of pure blood, of course."

James tensed, gripping his wand more firmly.

He was staring at Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** So, what did you think? It has been so long since I've written something HP-related, I fear my skills are quite rusty. But I guess I have to keep on writing this May because I'm starting my medicine proper in June, and I'm sure things will be more busy. sigh Plus, I've grown quite attached to this manga (_Detective Conan_), haha, but I guess I'll put that aside for now.

And this is so not related to HP, but I've closely followed _American Idol_ this season even if I don't live in the US, and I'm a fangirl of DAVID ARCHULETA! So please, if you live in the US, please vote for him like, two hundred times or more a night! :) I wouldn't mind if you won't review if you vote for him! Haha. :) So vote!

**David Archuleta for the win!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** First off, I apologise for the eternity it took to get this chapter out. This was very problematic for me to write, not only because of my tight schedule but also because it's just, well, difficult. Like the previous, it is transitional, but I hope you like it anyway. Happy new year to all! :)

**Chapter Summary: **As the War hits home, friendships are questioned and strengthened, heroes emerge, and a prophecy begins to be fulfilled as fate asserts itself. But sometimes, the very thing that's supposed to keep people together can tear them apart.

* * *

**Chapter 21: Like Soft, Drifting Sand**

_The strength I simply never found I will find for you  
What I believe our future holds, I will see it through  
To be with you a lifetime is really all I ask._

_--- _ _Vittorio Grigolo (You are my Miracle) ---_

His words came in an ill-timed lull. Heads snapped in his direction, mouths slightly open and eyes alert, all of them waiting for him to affirm what he had just said—or to deny it and tell them he had been joking.

Several heartbeats passed. Hermione lightly yet urgently shook the little boy's shoulders. "Death Eaters?" she repeated, her whisper magnified by the silence. "At Hogwarts?"

Faces blanched, and sharp intakes of breath were echoed throughout the room.

"But that can't be!" a female fifth year protested. "Dumbledore said we were safe!"

"Maybe those were just some Slytherins pulling your leg," another student volunteered, however tensely.

The boy visibly swallowed, his hands shaking. "I'm telling you, I saw them!" His voice cracked, and he stifled a sob. "I was pla-playing Exploding Snap on the fourth floor, and suddenly a door opened from the wall, and I saw them rush out! Four of them! Big and tall and wearing black cloaks, their faces covered with silver masks... So I ran away as fast as I could..."

Panicked buzzing filled the room, although nobody dared move from where they were. Hermione stood up and glanced at Sirius, whose face had gone white and had twisted in alarm.

_So there is indeed a secret passage located on the fourth floor._ The boy, who had now begun crying openly, was telling the truth.

And then, without having yet recovered from the terrible realisation, another hit her.

"James!" Hermione cried in fear.

A hush fell over the room.

_And Lily..._

Hermione couldn't breathe, could no longer stand a moment of inaction. She rushed to the door, all her senses now concentrated on finding James. She didn't know where he was, but she had to do something. _Anything!_ Blindly, she clambered out, but a strong hand pulled her from behind.

"Wait, Regina," Sirius declared. "I'm going with you, but wait just a moment."

She gazed at him in desperate confusion, wanting to scream that there was no time at all to waste—why was he hesitating now?—but he had already turned from her and had started giving Remus and Peter instructions.

"Moony, take charge and keep everybody inside. Wormtail, you help Moony. Make sure that the portrait hole and all the windows are locked."

Remus briskly sprang to his feet, tugging a still petrified Peter up as well.

Sirius' grip on Hermione tightened. "We're going out to look for James and Evans and for the other students who might still be out. We'll try to go to Dumbledore and McGonagall as well." His jaw clenched. "If we're not back by midnight, Remus... You know what to do." With that, he helped Hermione out the portrait hole and followed suit, slamming it behind him.

He lengthened his stride to keep up with Hermione, who was walking down the hall rapidly and paying him no attention. They reached the top of the staircase, but the stairs to the larger part of the castle seemed to take forever to swing their way. If they could just jump down several flights of stairs without having to endure multiple injuries, Sirius knew both of them would have done so.

"If you hadn't stopped me from taking off back there, I might have caught the stairs," Hermione snapped without looking at him, clutching the banister.

"True, but the Death Eaters might have also been nearer," Sirius replied evenly, belying the fears cruelly tearing at his insides.

"That was the point, you know," Hermione said scornfully, willing the stairs to move faster towards them. "We don't want to chase them away; we want to get them."

"We want to get James and Lily," Sirius reminded her as they rushed down the first flight of stairs, and then the second. "I don't know where the hell they are right now. I don't even know if by wasting—at least according to you—a few seconds, we've sent the Death Eaters closer to them..." He paused for breath at the foot of the stairs to the third floor, his chest heaving with both emotion and adrenalin.

"But at least we've made sure we won't be letting them anywhere near the Gryffindor tower."

Hermione bit her lower lip in quiet consideration. "Fine," she conceded afterwards. "Let's have it your way, then. Divide and conquer." She looked up and met his eyes. "We can split up—"

Sirius gaped at her as though she was insane. "Split up?"

"—and I'll take the left wing on all floors while you take the right," Hermione continued, unperturbed. All traces of her irritation had vanished, her voice consumed by weary resignation. "Can we meet each other here in an hour? Hopefully we'll have found them by then."

_And if we don't?_ But Sirius forcefully pushed the thought away. "I cannot let you go off on your own," Sirius objected, knowing James would never have allowed it. Not in a million years. Not even if he was in danger and she wanted to save him.

"It'll be faster!" Hermione insisted stubbornly, her annoyance peaking once again. "Will you just please stop wavering and agree? Please! This is no time to be chivalrous!"

Sirius' patience snapped. "Look," he snarled. "I don't care if you go and get yourself killed, but James will kill me for it if that happens, don't you see? And then he'll go and kill himself after." Without another word, he stalked off in the other direction.

"Where are you going, Black?" Hermione demanded.

"Time's better spent looking for my best friend," Sirius answered with his back to her. His hand slipped into his robes, and he drew his wand. "Just so you know, you're not the only one who loves him."

Hermione froze, watching his receding form. _Sirius... _

"Do both of us a favour and stay safe, alright?"

Hermione exhaled noisily, seething with indignation, but as Sirius disappeared around the corner, the fear she didn't want to acknowledge escalated. She was alone now, and the Death Eaters were at large. What would she ever do if she encountered them? She fumbled in her pocket for her wand but could find no reassurance from the piece of wood.

_This is not the time to be afraid! Move!_

She took several slow, deep breaths; her grip on her wand steadied, and even as she pressed her lips together in dread, she turned abruptly and started to walk towards the staircase at the end of the hall. Her movements were measured now, almost rigid, the stillness in the air no longer suffocating her. Instead, it sharpened her senses and dulled the realisation that her path could as well lead to her death.

Nothing can daunt a woman armed with love.

Hermione scanned the entirety of the left wing on the first floor before making her way down the hall, wary of anything that seemed unnatural. The bolts of the great doors to the castle were in place, but she wasn't surprised. The Death Eaters escaping that way would be just as effective as a thief ringing a doorbell before entering.

As she made her way back up, she wondered: if Voldemort wanted a terrorising display of his power, why didn't he send his followers during the day, when students and professors alike were freely milling around the castle? For all the morbid glamour he was known for, why did he decide to attack during the night, almost as though as he didn't want to be noticed?

At the top of the staircase to the second floor, Hermione once more peered down the hall to check if anything was amiss. She had decided to inspect the floors one at a time; satisfied and yet with her alarm rising, she gingerly took the stairs to the third floor, flattening herself against the wall afterwards as she strained her ears for noise.

She heard a derisive laugh, and recognising it as James's, she released the breath that she had been holding. _He's safe!_

"If you ask me, joining Voldemort would be _tainting_ my pure blood, not honouring it," Hermione heard him say in an almost conversation manner. Whoever he was talking with hissed in spite, but he continued, "So I hate to disappoint you, Lestrange, but I'm afraid you'll have to take no for an answer."

_Lestrange._ A chill ran through her. She had heard that name and the murders associated with it, and the earlier relief she had at hearing James's voice evaporated. He was in danger, but how could she best help him? She could make her presence known, but wouldn't that create more trouble...?

_BAM!_

Without another conscious thought, Hermione rushed from where she was hiding and saw James standing only a few feet from where a metal armour had exploded. He had his wand out in a stance fit for duels, his breathing ragged and an unexpected smirk on his face. Hermione watched in suspended terror as James's opponent, a dark-skinned woman whose face was disfigured with fierce fury, fired another curse. He stumbled as he dodged the light, landing on his knees.

"James!" she screamed.

* * *

_Why didn't I think of bringing the map?_ Sirius berated himself angrily as he stomped up the stairs to the seventh floor. _It would've made finding James so much easier. _But he didn't have the time to return to Gryffindor tower to retrieve the map, in any case. Not after wasting three-quarters of an hour in searching the left wing of all the lower floors, the dungeons and the entrance to the Slytherin common room included.

"Fifteen minutes," Sirius gritted out as another clock came into view. Fifteen more minutes and he'd have to meet Regina back where he left her... that is, if nothing had happened to her yet. He groaned, reminded once more of the advantage the Marauder's Map would've given him. _Where are you, Prongs?_

He pushed open a slab of wall, which gave way to reveal a revolving staircase covering two more flights. Another door concealed by a wall and several feet to the right would be the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, usually accessed through the fifth floor. Sirius had discovered this passage after many months of trying to get through to Marlene McKinnon.

"_Crucio!"_

Sirius' breathing hitched, and he stopped in his tracks.

And then again, _"Crucio!_"

The cold, forceful words reverberated even through the brick wall, and his heart clenched. He ran up the remaining steps and kicked through the wall just as a shrill pierced the air.

Lily was twisting in excruciating pain on the carpeted floor ten feet from him, just outside the door to the Ravenclaw common room. Reflexively, Sirius growled and shouted, "_Stupefy!_" The red light bounced ineffectively off the wall as he ran towards her, but it didn't matter; announcing his presence was enough to distract the enemy, and the curse torturing Lily was lifted.

However weak she was, she didn't waste a second before retaliating. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Sirius reached Lily's side just in time to see the Death Eater, robed in black and yet unmasked, be immobilised as the curse hit his left knee. His body staggered, about to fall on its side, and then:

"_Stupefy!_"

Another burst of light erupted from the end of Lily's wand, still angled from the floor, and this time it hit the Death Eater right in the chest. The force was enough to make him topple backwards and roll down the stairs. Sirius rushed to follow him and, to his horror, saw the staircases change just as the petrified body reached the last rung—and dropped vertically, landing several floors down with a thud.

Sirius' blood froze, transfixed at the sight of the mangled, almost indistinguishable form tens of feet below. His hands gripped the banister for support as a wave of nausea hit him. Then he felt Lily quietly approach his side, saw the realisation strike her as her green eyes widened in shock and her face paled into ash.

Lily's chin trembled and her shoulders shook, almost as though she wanted to cry. Pity overwhelmed him, and he laid a hand on her arm. She met his gaze fiercely, as though challenging him to blame her, but how could he?

"Are you hurt, Evans?" he asked instead.

"N—no," she answered, trying to control the shiver that ran through her. Sirius could sense how hard she was fighting for control, finally succeeding when she next spoke. "How did you find me? The Death Eater... I was on my rounds... We should get back, there might be others around—"

Sirius' entire body went numb. "Evans, where's James?"

Her sharp intake of breath was painfully audible. "He's not with me; we do our rounds separately..."

A low, anguished moan escaped Sirius as he took Lily by the wrist and led her with haste towards the secret passage from whence he had earlier emerged. _Regina_, he thought with newfound urgency. _Have you found him yet?_

"Where are we going?" Lily asked in confusion as they passed the turn to the revolving stairs leading to Dumbledore's office. "We should alert the Headmaster!"

Sirius didn't respond, except to tighten his hold on her as she tried to tug her arm away. Deaf to her protests, he practically dragged her down the stairs to where Regina had said she'd meet him after an hour.

She wasn't there.

_Damn!_ Sirius cursed, rooted to the spot and eyes wild as he looked around. Twice, thrice, several times.

"Black," Lily muttered in a low voice. "What exactly—"

"Thank Merlin!" a voice exclaimed, and they both turned to see Professor McGonagall approach them, seemingly having come from Gryffindor Tower. "Mister Black, Miss Evans—"

"Professor, Death Eaters—"

"So Mister Lupin has told me," Professor McGonagall interrupted Lily. "And now I must request that the two of you return to your common room—"

"But James and Regina—" Sirius protested.

The older woman's nostrils flared, and she pointed in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. "To the common room. Now."

Sirius stared at her disbelievingly. "Professor," he sharply said. "My friends are in danger, and you expect me to run and take cover?"

Professor McGonagall glared, but her voice was kinder when next she spoke. "Mister Black, I already had Argus alert the staff, and they are currently searching the castle. For the moment, kindly consider your safety as a priority and return to the common room."

Frustrated and yet unable to do anything else, Sirius whirled to leave, but Lily remained where she was, her inner turmoil reflected on her face.

"What is it, Miss Evans?"

"A Death Eater... a Death Eater's dead, Professor," Lily spoke quickly, her jaw tensed. "Fell down the stairs when I hit him with a curse..."

Professor McGonagall's mouth opened in astonishment, and her brow furrowed with sympathy. "To the common room, Miss Evans. We'll talk more of this tomorrow."

Lily stared at her for several more tormented seconds. As the Deputy Headmistress watched her walk away, her shoulders drooped, she worried at how much the young girl had aged in the past hour alone.

* * *

James eyed the dark, heavy-lidded woman in front of him, shifting his weight from one foot to another, trying to decide whether to fight or run. The stairs was just several feet down the hallway, and he could attempt making a flight for it; but then he would be running with his back turned to the enemy... _Certainly not a good idea_.

"Scared, Potter?" Bellatrix sneered, her dark eyes travelling to the fist curled within the pockets of his robes.

"Should I be?" James asked, raising his chin a notch and cautiously drawing his wand out, readying himself for another attack.

Bellatrix cackled. "Oh, look, the boy's got a wand! Pity we did not come tonight to kill." She took one step toward him, her gaze intent as a predator's. "Now if you'll just be a good boy and step aside..."

James's face darkened. He was definitely _not_ running. "What makes you think I'd let a murderer like you pass?"

Without warning, he flashed a Stunning spell at her, but she didn't even flinch. Bellatrix merely deflected it with a wave of her hand and smiled nastily at him. "Such feeble attempts can never stop me, but if that's how itle-bittle Potter wants to play..." She bared more teeth and then screamed, "_Crucio!_"

The curse hit James as he tried to duck, and he sank to his knees in pain. One shout, and he instantly regretted it. He would never give the Death Eater the satisfaction of knowing she had hurt him. He thrashed on the floor, gritting his teeth and trying to summon enough concentration to master his senses.

"_Tarantallegra!_" James fiercely growled, missing Bellatrix by a couple of inches but making her lose the handle on the Cruciatus. He snapped to his feet in an instant, his breathing laboured and his face livid with fury. A surge of adrenalin was coursing through him like he'd never known before, awakening a mode of survival that was fuelled by anger and the desire for vengeance. He knew now that he would either kill or be killed—but the thought that fighting might bring about his own death did not terrify him.

On the contrary, a noble, heroic death was almost welcome.

"You need not fight me, boy," Bellatrix wheezed, flicking her wand threateningly at him. "You carry a proud heritage that the Dark Lord favours, especially if you do as he bids. Help us, and he will reward you greatly."

"And all I have to do is kill Muggleborns for sport?" James laughed derisively, eyeing the Death Eater with contempt and bravely stepping forward. "If you ask me, joining Voldemort would be _tainting_ my pure blood, not honouring it. So I hate to disappoint you, Lestrange, but I'm afraid you'll have to take no for an answer."

Bellatrix hissed. "Well, let us try again, shall we? _Crucio!_"

This time, James was quick enough to sidestep and avoid being hit; the curse pierced a metal sculpture of a soldier standing in the corner, and its armour shattered to pieces. Unmindful of the raining debris, he aimed his wand more steadily in the Death Eater's direction.

"_Crucio!_"

"_Protego!_"

James knew it was foolish; the Shield Charm would never be able to deflect the Unforgivables, but then again it might serve as a diversion. Heaven knows he needed one. He saw another light streaking towards him, and as he tried to avoid it, he stumbled to his knees.

"James!"

His head whirled at the sound of his name, and to his horror, he saw Hermione standing at the corner to the stairs, her eyes wide with fear. "Regina! What are you—" Another Cruciatus curse struck him in the chest and he roared to block off the sensation of the many knives jabbing at him. Dimly, he heard Hermione scream.

"_Stupefy!_" she shot at Bellatrix as she ran to him. The Death Eater's wand arm twitched, and the excruciating agony James was suffering eased. Hermione let out a sob of relief as she wrapped her arms around James, but he pushed her away.

"No," he gasped. "Leave now, Regina!"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth did he see Bellatrix direct another Cruciatus, this time at Hermione, and he yanked her to his other side for safety. "Do not involve her in this, Lestrange," James warned as he stood and pulled Hermione up to her feet. "This is between us. Let her go."

"Awww," Bellatrix cooed. "And here I thought you wanted to play. Bargaining now, aren't we?" She cast a malevolent look towards Hermione and added, "I might not recognise her, Potter, but the stench reeking from her blood is enough to sentence her to death."

James's fist tightened on Hermione's wrist. "You told me you didn't come tonight to kill."

Bellatrix' eyes flitted appraisingly between the two of them, and James felt his reflexes stretched to the limit. _Divide and conquer,_ he thought urgently. He had to distract the Death Eater so Regina could get away.

"As soon as I let go of your hand, run away," he whispered to Hermione from the corner of his mouth. In response, Hermione squeezed his hand.

"I am not going anywhere without you, James," Hermione muttered back stubbornly, causing James's eyes to narrow.

James glared at her before flicking his wand in Bellatrix' direction. _Reducto!_ he bellowed inside his head; at the same time, he shouted, as he shoved Regina away, "Go now, damn it!"

But be that his execution of the nonverbal Reductor was excellent, it was a move obviously foreseen by Bellatrix, who had carelessly waved the spell away with a silent Protego. The red light rebounded towards James and Hermione, and this time it was the latter who yelled, "_Protego!_" The curse hit the wall, and the portraits erupted into smithereens.

Hermione covered her nose to keep from breathing in the debris, her eyes stinging. In the midst of the settling dust, James was aware of a figure, also robed in black, approach the female Death Eater from behind—and his heart sank. Things were getting bleaker.

"Bellatrix," a cold voice issued from behind its mask, its voice coloured with impatience. "What is with this delay? We are under orders to complete the plan in haste."

"I was tying up loose ends," Bellatrix replied, irritated that the other Death Eater would dare question her methods.

"Be quick then. You know the curse, I presume?" he replied with contemptible amusement.

"We have not been given orders to kill," Bellatrix reminded loftily.

"My dear, since when have we required them?" he sneered, and James just knew it was Lucius Malfoy under the mask. "Or tell me, Bella. Perhaps the sight of two underage wizards frighten you?"

Her nostrils flared. "How dare you!" Bellatrix seethed. "I pride myself on carrying out the Dark Lord's plans to the last detail, that he might be pleased. Besides, I cannot just kill a Pureblood!"

The other Death Eater tossed his cloak back, revealing long, white blond hair, and slowly lifted the silver mask from his face. A flame lit his normally cold eyes as he surveyed their two opponents. His upper lip curled mockingly.

"I see what you mean," he acceded. "What a charming little reunion this is. Potter, I believe?" He nodded towards James, who stared back defiantly at him. "I hear he's a rather gifted wizard, and such a fellow may someday be of use to the Dark Lord."

"I'd rather die," James declared valiantly, one arm still shielding Hermione from the Death Eaters.

"Brave too, I see," Lucius remarked idly. "But let me give you some advice, Potter—tonight, not even your Gryffindor courage will be enough to save yourself." His eyes glinted. "Let us pass. Now."

Several tense moments passed, during which not one muscle twitched. And then Lucius and Bellatrix each took a step forward, testing the waters, but James and Hermione stood their ground. Another step, and yet they didn't move. As soon as the Death Eaters had taken their third step, James and Hermione straightened their arms and firmly pointed their wands at them.

"No more," Hermione spoke for the first time since arguing with James, her voice ringing. "This is the farthest you will ever get."

James wouldn't have wanted her to draw attention to herself, and again he felt his anger mount, but now wasn't the time for it. He opened his mouth to speak and stall for more time, but it merely gaped at the realisation that perhaps they would be saved, after all.

Professors McGonagall and Slughorn had just turned around a corner down the hallway and were stealthily walking towards Lucius and Bellatrix. The Deputy Headmistress had, with a stern look, warned him to be silent, and James sensed from Regina's minute adjustment in posture that she had seen the aid forthcoming as well.

Lucius, completely unaware, was just surveying Hermione with the same intense dislike Bellatrix had shown earlier. "Appalling, Potter, the company you consort with," he drawled. "Let me assure you—the Dark Lord will hear of your insolence tonight, and _you will be sorry_."

The gravity of that statement was not lost on James, but he wasn't given a second to think on it. Lucius turned the wand on them fast, but Professor McGonagall was faster. Blue light erupted from the end of her wand and grazed Bellatrix' right ear. In one fluid motion, the two Death Eaters turned, both of them immediately retaliating.

"_Crucio!_"

"_Stupefy!_"

Jets of light streaked all around them, and James did not have to think twice as the flurry of curses broke out. Still holding Hermione's hand, he pulled her away in a run and up the stairs to the third floor until they reached the staircase that would bring them back to Gryffindor tower.

"James, wait! I just remembered," Hermione said breathlessly, "I was supposed to meet Sirius down there..." Her voice faltered at the annoyance and pained anxiety that crossed his face.

"Both of you should have never left the tower in the first place," James harshly said. "We were lucky as hell to be out to have gotten out of that scrap." The idea of what might have happened downstairs, had Professor McGonagall not seen them, was too much to bear. Regina could've been hurt—or worse, _dead_. His throat constricted, and for one mad moment, he wanted to dash back downstairs and duel Malfoy and Lestrange to death.

"We were worried, James," Hermione reasoned as they briskly walked to the portrait of the Fat Lady. "A third-year had returned running to the common room, crying about Death Eaters, and you weren't there yet, so Sirius and I decided to look for you..."

"Then why weren't you with him when you found me?"

"We thought it would be better if we split up." James threw her an incredulous look, and Hermione laid a placating hand on his arm. "I know you think we put ourselves in danger, but wouldn't you have done the same for us? Sirius wasn't down where we'd agreed to meet, and it's been past the hour we've set.

James clenched his jaw. "I'm taking you back first to Gryffindor tower. If Sirius still isn't there—"

"Lily was also out in the castle—"

"I'll leave to look for them again. But I want you safe first." He met her eyes briefly, and Hermione realised that this time, he was not asking. "Flobberworms," he told the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open, and they clambered in.

"James!" Sirius exclaimed, barrelling towards his best friend and embracing him tightly. "Prongs, I thought—"

"I'm fine," James interrupted. "Have you been hurt?"

"No," Sirius answered, letting him go and turning to hug Hermione as well. "How did you find him?" he asked her.

Hermione smiled feebly. "Got lucky, I suppose."

The three of them approached the couch on which Peter and Remus were sprawled, almost boneless with relief. They both stood and greeted James and Hermione with weak hugs before settling once again. The common room was empty save for the five of them, Professor McGonagall having sent everyone to bed earlier.

"Thank Merlin you're both safe," Remus sighed. "I couldn't imagine what I'd do had something happened."

"By the way, is Lily—" Hermione started to ask.

"I found her," Sirius replied in a low voice. "She's already gone to her dormitory."

"She's all right, isn't she?" Hermione asked.

Sirius exhaled heavily. "Not exactly." He told them how he had found Lily battling the Death Eater and how she had accidentally killed him, eliciting gasps from his friends.

"Does anybody else know?" Peter squeaked.

"McGonagall," Sirius answered. "Lily and I ran into her on the way here. She said she already knew about the attack and had alerted the staff to search for you, Prongs."

"She found us, all right," James said tightly. "She and Slughorn must still be battling Malfoy and Lestrange."

Peter let out another squeak, Sirius swore, and a paler Remus enquired, "What exactly happened, James?"

His fellow Marauder simply frowned deeply, and Remus turned to Hermione. "Regina?"

Hermione risked a glance at James, saw the fire blaze in his eyes and knew that it was not her place to speak.

"Prongs?" Sirius prompted.

"I don't want to talk about it, Padfoot," James replied curtly. "Not now. Not when I'm so angry with you and Regina for rushing out like that just to look for me, I can barely think straight."

Sirius' brows rose in surprise. Hermione, her patience wearing thin, said, "I don't understand what you're so angry about, James. I told you, we were worried about you—"

"So both of you," James said, bristling at Sirius, "risked your lives for me?"

"Tell me, mate," Sirius coldly said, "what would you have done?"

_The same,_ James answered immediately in his head. But he didn't say anything. Instead, he abruptly stood up and, towering over them, he declared, "Don't ever do anything dangerous like that again. _I'm not worth it_."

* * *

Thousands of miles away, in a village called Little Hangleton, Voldemort was livid.

"My Lord, please punish me," Bellatrix cried, kneeling before him. She, Lucius, and Augustus Rookwood had just finished reporting on their unsuccessful mission at Hogwarts.

"I do not need you to remind me, Bella," Voldemort thundered. "_Crucio._" Bellatrix screamed. He let a full minute pass before lifting the curse; the woman lay on the floor, breathing raggedly.

"I don't remember telling you to rest," he said coldly and turned his attention to the other two Death Eaters. He fingered his wand as he surveyed them with displeasure; yet again, the best of his Death Eaters had failed him.

"Remind me, Lucius," Voldemort silkily said, his red-tinged eyes boring down on him. "Why did I ask you to go to Hogwarts?"

Lucius fought to maintain eye contact and replied, careful not to let fear colour his voice, "To secure the current location of the Mirror of Erised, master."

"Precisely," Voldemort sneered. "The mission was arranged merely to verify the Mirror's safety. I did not ask you to take it out, nor did I instruct you to play with children!" His voice hardened. "I sent four of you—you come back one less, and with no information to appease me either. _Crucio! Crucio!_"

Lucius and Augustus writhed on the floor, and Voldemort vented his anger by throwing their bodies up and down. When he had tired of it, he jerked his wand and asked, still incensed, "The name of the one who killed Jugson. Do you have it?"

Augustus shook his head and was rewarded with another Cruciatus. Voldemort glared at Lucius, who held up a hand as though to stop the Dark Lord and gasped, "We shall find out, my Lord. But the one who stalled Bella and me—there were two of them—"

"It was a Potter, my lord," Bellatrix interrupted. "Potter of the Fourteen Families. James Potter."

Voldemort tilted his head to one side, thoughtfully considering this information in the midst of Rookwood's wails. "James Potter," he spat venomously. "Mark him, as well as the one who killed Jugson."

"My lord?" Lucius said, not fully understanding.

"They dared defy me this once; they will defy me again. Kill them," Voldemort commanded, his eyes burning now as he stared at the three kneeling before him. "Kill them, and then Hogwarts will see what happens to those resist me."

* * *

Hermione passed the common room the following morning to find the three Marauders waiting for her, their eyes bleary. The night before had been especially longer for them; half an hour after James's departure, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore had arrived, wanting to question them on the incident. Hermione and Sirius told them all that they could, and the older wizards seemed satisfied with their accounts.

"Professor, I can go get James," Remus had offered, but the Headmaster had shaken his head.

"That's not necessary tonight, Remus," Dumbledore had replied. "I shall speak to him and Miss Evans tomorrow morning."

Now Hermione wondered where James was, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, Sirius snarled, "Don't know where he is myself, that arrogant git."

Her spirits dropped. She had hoped that things would look up in the morning, but they seemed to pick up right where they left off. Subdued, she followed Peter, Remus and Sirius down to the Great Hall for breakfast. They settled at their usual seats before realising that James was sitting alone down at the far end, munching on toast and apparently in deep thought.

Sirius glowered at him. James must have felt some of the heat, for he turned to look in their direction, but his jaw merely clenched, and he went back to his toast.

Hermione was discomfited. Surely he still wasn't angry at them about last night?

"Wouldn't even talk to me," she heard Sirius mutter, still throwing daggers at his best friend and dragging his knife noisily on his plate.

Hermione exhaled noisily. Wanting to put an end to it, she stood up and marched to where James was.

"Hi," Hermione nervously greeted. The frantic thumping of her heart stilled when James shifted and looked straight into her eyes—his were cold, unfeeling. She shivered; he seemed to have completely shut himself off.

"Mind if I sit with you?" she asked anyway. James shrugged, and so she sat down, turning over phrases in her head.

"James," Hermione hesitantly began, his detachment making her feel like she was talking to a stranger. "We're—I'm—sorry about last night." She paused, but he said nothing, so he continued, "Maybe we had been reckless, but there was no time to think. You would—you would have done the same for us, we know it—"

"You don't understand," James said cuttingly.

Hermione struggled with herself, biting back a retort. "All right, James," she said, a touch of steel this time. "Tell me what's bothering you. Make me understand."

A shadow crossed James's features, and he averted his gaze towards the High Table. Dumbledore had risen from his seat and was on his way to descend the platform. The sinking feeling in his stomach told him he knew what the Headmaster was going to say, but if it was going to help him escape Regina's scrutiny...

"Looks like Dumbledore wants to say something, we'd better listen," he said offhandedly, turning his back to her.

The Headmaster waved his hands for attention, smiling slightly as the noise in the Hall died down. "I know what a pain it is to waive conversation in the midst of a hearty breakfast, and on such a fine morning as this—" He glanced at the ceiling, where the sun was on its way to its rise. "Nevertheless, I have some important announcements to make."

His voice turned sombre when next he spoke. "Last night, four Death Eaters entered Hogwarts." Nervous buzzing filled the room, and Dumbledore said, "Fortunately, nobody in the castle was hurt, and the staff was alerted immediately to attend to the situation. One of the Death Eaters was killed in combat."

Gasps punctuated this sentence.

"Three of the Death Eaters, however, had eluded capture and had escaped via which they had entered as well: a passageway on the fourth floor that was, before now, unbeknownst to us."

By this time, the murmurs had escalated into audible words.

"How come it wasn't guarded?"

"D'you reckon they'll come back again?"

"Lucky they came at night then, eh? When nobody was roaming the castle?"

Dumbledore had to raise his voice to make himself heard over all the concerns. "This passage has been sealed off, and protective charms have already been placed over it. I implore you then to immediately report to your Heads of Houses any conceivable means of entry that you might discover." His eyes wandered furtively to the Marauders, and his tone hardened.

"I do not have any reason to believe these Death Eaters can once again break into Hogwarts, but then again, I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the current situation is. Rules on your out-of-bed hours and tighter security measures will be enforced more stringently, and wrongdoers shall be punished more severely."

Then the Headmaster smiled, surprising his students. "On a lighter note, allow me to give credit to the students who showed exemplary courage when faced with last night's events. Ethan Amber," Dumbledore said, nodding at the small third-year, who looked terrified with the attention. "Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, Regina Weisz," he enumerated, inclining his head towards each person he named. "And of course, our Head Girl and Boy, Lily Evans and James Potter."

Dumbledore then proceeded to award each of them fifty points to Gryffindor—nay, a hundred each to James and Lily—and the table of red-and-gold erupted in cheers, but Hermione wasn't listening. Amidst the suddenly cheerful mood, Lily's downcast expression was all the more noticeable, as was the gravity with which James hung his head.

"But I wonder how they escaped?" she softly asked.

"Smoke," James answered, his gaze resolutely on his plate. "Dumbledore called and told me this morning. The Death Eaters Conjured smoke, and by the time it had cleared, they were long gone." His hands balled into fists, and he added, "Professor Flitwick, who stood guard on the fourth floor, was found Stunned afterwards. It was all very poorly done, if you ask me."

Privately, Hermione had to agree, but she was so relieved at having James speak to her that she spontaneously reached out and touched his arm.

James shuddered, and Hermione drew back, hurt. For several moments, they stared into each other's eyes, but for the first time since they were together, she could not read his. She only recognised that they were intensely filled with... With what?

The bell rang, and he hurriedly stood up. "I've got Transfiguration," he murmured, almost apologetically, as he rushed by her.

Hermione could not find enough strength to stand. She had Transfiguration too.

* * *

Four days passed. Sirius was counting—_oh yes, he was_—the number of days he had had to endure James sitting next to him in class. Normally, he would have considered it a treat and would have wasted no time at all in conniving with his best friend to disrupt class, but now that James had retreated to silence...

Sirius sighed with boredom and scrutinised James, who was resting his left cheek on the palm of his hand. In his opinion, James rather looked like the time Lily had brutally rejected him; his hazel eyes were tired and rimmed with dark circles, and his complexion was sallow. Just now, he seemed ready to sink into a stupor. Even as Sirius wondered, for the gazillionth time, what was eating his best friend, he knew it was pointless to ask.

Infuriatingly, as though he was under the Unbreakable Vow, James just wouldn't tell them.

Sirius acted flippantly about it, as if he was plain relieved to have James with them again. Remus had been more vocal, and he echoed Sirius' concerns: it was understandable for their fellow Marauder to be down, but he was not getting up. Something was deeply troubling him—and that in itself was unsettling.

He smoothed back his long hair and rubbed his forehead tiredly. _What bothers me most_, he brooded, _is the way he treats her._ Sirius threw a backward glance at Hermione, who was now seated beside Remus. It made him uneasy, the haughtiness that carved her face, but he couldn't blame her. He had seen her attempts to talk to James, knew that she had possibly used up all the tricks in the book, only to be rewarded with cold, cutting aloofness.

_Well, you should be happy now,_ a voice told Sirius. _They seem to be on the verge of breaking up._

But he wasn't, not if it meant having a Kissed boy with glasses for his best friend.

As soon as Professor Flitwick had dismissed them, fifteen minutes earlier than the time, he swivelled in his seat to see Regina briskly walk to the door, head held high. Then he turned to his left and realised that he wasn't alone in watching her; James was staring at her, his features contorted with distress.

_He loves her still,_ Sirius realised, and again James's stupidity annoyed him. He sat back and crossed his arms exasperatedly. "I thought you love her?" he asked bluntly.

James's face closed protectively. He swallowed twice before seriously answering, "I do."

"So why don't you talk to her? I remember a time not so long ago when you could hardly keep yourselves off each other," Sirius said. "What is this you're doing, a new funny way of showing you care?"

James sat up straighter, his eyes flashing. "I do care, Padfoot, enough to stay away from her. She can't be seen with me, or she'll be in danger."

_Wow. That was the longest he had spoken in four days. _Sirius looked around and saw, to his relief, that the room was empty save for Remus, Peter, and the two of them. He frowned at him. "Why, 'cause you might get yourself in trouble with Death Eaters and she'll come to save you?" He snorted. "Don't delude yourself, Prongs. Last time she risked her life for you, you ended up biting her—the two of us, for that matter. I doubt she wants to be on the receiving end of your tantrums again."

Furious, James stood up. "I didn't want her running around to save me, Black—"

Sirius stood up at this point, glaring at him.

"—not if she might die herself. And I certainly don't want her associated with me any longer, not after what Malfoy said that night."

"Yeah? What did he say?" Sirius demanded. At the corner of his eye, he saw Remus and Peter approach them warily.

"That I'd be sorry," James raged, days of pent-up worry and frustration pouring out. "It sounds trivial, doesn't it? _I'd be sorry_." He laughed harshly. "Only they're Death Eaters, they're sure to bring news to Voldemort, and I'm a Potter..."

"I'm a Black, Potter," Sirius said, returning his courtesy, "and I ought to be in more danger than you, yet you don't see me being an absolute git about it."

James looked at him pityingly. "You really don't understand, do you?" he said quietly. "I do not fear for myself, Padfoot. I fear for her—for all those I care about, but most especially for her."

It seemed to Sirius that James had suddenly shrunk, and he felt embarrassed for being so shallow. "All right," he conceded. "I get you now. But you know, you really still should talk to her. The way you're acting, I'm sure she thinks you don't give a damn."

"She'll say I'm being stupid," James muttered.

"You don't have to worry then. She's already been saying that these past few days," Remus said lightly, teasing a weak smile out of James.

"You owe her an explanation, mate," Sirius said unrelentingly. "Even if she punches you in the face and breaks up with you on the spot—" The other three Marauders winced. "You owe her one."

James chuckled without humour. "That would really make your day, Sirius, wouldn't it? Us breaking up."

"How come I have somebody as thick as you for a best friend?" Sirius wondered. "Prongs, I'm for what makes you happy. I've always been. If she will pull you out of your self-inflicted misery, I'd rather you be with her."

"You make it sound easy," James said, smiling grimly. _And awfully tempting._ "But you haven't been listening to a word I was saying. I told you, I don't want her near—"

"And yet you're unhappy without her," Peter pointed out.

"I think," Remus intervened evenly before James could lash out again, "that you want her around, and yet you believe you aren't supposed to. Now I also think you're setting too much store by what Malfoy said—"

"And with good reason," James rejoined.

Remus held up a hand. "Regardless," he said, "don't you think she'll be safer if you keep her near so you can protect her?" James fell silent, and he thought it sound to press another point. "You need your friends, Prongs. You need us around. And don't ever say," he sharply said, "that you aren't worth risking our lives for. You... It was your idea to try and become Animagi for my sake, even if everything could have gone horribly wrong..."

"There are things worth dying for, James," Sirius said. "Friendship—brotherhood—is one of those."

James met their eyes squarely even if his insides were burning with shame. "I'm sorry," he spoke, running a hand through his hair. "You were right, Moony—"

"Just Moony?" Sirius interrupted, pretending to be insulted.

James grinned. "And Padfoot and Wormtail," he said, and then the smile disappeared again. "I've been a prat and... I'm sorry. I do need you, all of you, even if you annoy the hell out of me. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"If it even comes close to happening again," Remus said wryly, "we'll whack you on the head until you come to your senses."

The bell rang, chasing the last of the gloom away, and it is with lighter spirits that they began gathering their things for the next period. "You still have to talk to Regina, though," Sirius reminded James.

The very idea filled James with dread. "Yeah, it'll be a cinch," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How will I tell her that I want her back, that I still love her, that the only reason I was acting like a—"

"A pile of rat droppings," Sirius supplied helpfully, and Peter and Remus snorted with laughter.

"Yeah," James agreed dryly. "How am I going to say that the only reason I was acting like that was because I was afraid Death Eaters would come after her because of me?"

Peter blinked. "You just did, James. You just did."

* * *

The first thing she saw was the white rose.

Hermione dropped her bag to the floor, slid into her seat and gingerly picked up the rose. Attached to its long stem was a white card. She flipped it open.

_I'm sorry._

She stiffened, recognising the scrawl. "Are you really Remus?" she whispered fiercely to the sandy-haired boy next to her.

Remus turned to her in surprise. "Yes, why do you ask?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. You and James might've switched using Polyjuice or something." It was evident, seeing the Marauders together again, that James had risen out of his funk and had explained himself—perhaps even apologised—to his friends. She threw an annoyed glance in James's direction and saw him watching her nervously, as though waiting for what she would do with the rose. She rolled her eyes.

"Does he really think one rose is enough?" she murmured, unimpressed.

"Well—"

"_Evanesco_," Hermione said, tapping the rose with her wand. It vanished. She glanced at James once again; he bit his lower lip in disappointment and turned away from her.

Then there were two white roses that appeared to the right of her plate during lunch. Each had their own card, one with _I'm sorry_ and the other reading _I really am sorry_.

A smile tugged the corners of her lips, but she pulled them down. Another fleeting look at James told her he was keeping an eye on her, so again she pulled out her wand and Vanished the roses with the air of one unconcerned.

_Let him stew over it for a while._

In the afternoon, three roses came during Potions, and four roses sprang atop her desk during Defence Against the Dark Arts.

_I'm sorry. I really am sorry. And thank you for loving me enough to look for me that night._

The fourth card made her purse her lips in amusement. _I've been an unforgiveable prat, but please forgive me._ And then the fifth, which she received at dinner, melted the hurt he had caused her and made her want to throw her arms around him, hold him close and tell him she had forgiven him.

_I love you still._

And yet Hermione refused to give in that easily.

"_Evanesco._"

It was while she was working on her assignments late that night at the common room that James finally came up to her, holding out six white roses. The flowers were, she realised, his way of softening her up before he could approach her.

"What is it?" she asked curtly, unwilling to risk a glance at his face lest she be swayed.

James gulped. "These are for you."

"Well, you can just place them here," Hermione said, patting the space next to the parchment she was writing on. "I'll read the cards later."

He did as he was told and tried to convince himself he should be heartened she hadn't decided to throw the flowers in the garbage bin. "Can I talk to you—er, right now?"

"Last time I heard, you weren't interested in talking. Besides," she gestured to the parchment, "I've got Transfiguration." She resumed writing, giving the appearance of one who did not have time to spare, and James slunked away defeated.

The flowers and messages persisted over the next couple of days, and so did his attempts to converse with her. But even though her anger had long dissipated, it was still with utmost nonchalance that she regarded his efforts.

"Are you still mad with him?" Remus asked tiredly Friday afternoon.

Hermione could barely conceal her smile as she Vanished the nineteen roses she had found beside her cauldron. "No, not anymore."

"How come you won't talk to him? Please, Regina. Give the poor bloke a break."

"I bet he asked you to tell me this," Hermione said, throwing a snide look in James's direction.

Remus sighed. "No, he did not. But believe me, you'd be doing us a favour by relenting to hear him out. He's moping, and he's grumpy, and he's wearing us all out."

Twenty roses appeared by her plate at dinnertime, and Hermione, half-annoyed and half-pleased with his persistence, left the table without bothering to read the twentieth card. She began making her way to the library instead of to the common room, but something strange happened the moment she stepped down the hallway.

A rose—this time, it was red—appeared in front of her. Hermione looked around but saw nobody, so she skipped over it and took another step. Another red rose appeared, and another, and another, marking her path to the doors of the library.

"Is somebody trying to trip me or what?" she muttered in irritation, aware that James had been following her, hidden under his cloak, determined to get her alone and talk to her.

She pushed open the doors, entered and chose a table at the corner. Hermione took out the Spellbook she had borrowed from Sirius and began reading, but she couldn't concentrate, knowing that James was just around.

_Crack!_

Startled, Hermione put down the book. What she saw made her inhale sharply. Dozens of roses, a mixture of red and white and pink, appeared on the wooden table out of thin air, a card dangling from each of them. She shook her head in amusement and made up her mind.

"James," she said, "I know you're here somewhere. Pull the cloak off, for Merlin's sake. If Madam Pince sees this—"

There was a sound of fabric whipping through the air, and then James was revealed standing two feet from her. He was grinning mischievously, as though he knew all along that his ploy would succeed. He came closer and pulled up the chair perpendicular to hers, folding the Invisibility Cloak afterwards and returning it to his bag.

"Can we talk now?" he asked hopefully.

Hermione kept her eyes averted. "Well, I suppose if we're going to break up, we should end it nicely."

That stunned James into momentary silence, after which he croaked, "You... you want to break up with me?"

She turned her eyes on him and immediately knew it was a mistake. She could never trust herself to look at him, much more look into his eyes... "Your recent actions have suggested nothing less, James."

"I know," he admitted guiltily. "But Regina," James added urgently, "I can explain things. I can make you understand why I've acted that way lately, if you'd just give me a chance and listen." He placed his hand over hers and was encouraged when she did not pull away. "But first, thank you for what you did that night..."

He saw her lovely brown eyes steadily fill with tears, and he cursed himself for bringing them forth.

"I was—I only didn't want to lose you, James."

His throat tightened. "It was the same for me. How do you think I'd feel if—if something happened to you, and it was because of me..." James gripped her hand. "I couldn't stand even the possibility of you getting hurt. I would die before they laid a finger on you. I... I love you that much." His words dropped to a whisper.

Hermione rewarded him with a watery smile. "James, I do not love you any less than that, you know."

A breath he did not realise he was holding escaped him, and he moved his chair closer to her. He cupped her cheek with his other hand. "Does this mean that you forgive me?"

She chuckled. "How can I not after all these roses?"

"I thought you didn't like them, since you just kept Vanishing them."

"I've been Vanishing them to my room," Hermione confessed shyly, making James audibly exhale, smile and pull her to him in an embrace. They fell quiet for several minutes, just holding each other and allowing their newfound tranquillity to wash over them.

"I'm the luckiest bloke in the world," James said after a while, breaking the silence.

"Why?" Hermione murmured against his shoulder.

"To hold you like this and have everything all right again. I've really missed you," James said, smoothing her hair from her forehead. "And there's more I have to tell you," he added, thinking about his anxiety over Malfoy's threat, although it seemed inconsequential just now, "but I'm supposed to do my rounds right now."

Hermione kissed him lightly and reluctantly disentangled herself from him. "Well, you better go now. We can talk later."

"I'll be back before ten," James promised, making a mental note to drop by the kitchens later for some hot chocolate. He kissed her before leaving.

Humming to herself, a contented smile playing on her lips, Hermione Vanished the roses once more, stuffed the book into her bag and practically skipped on her way to the common room.

"Somebody looks happy tonight," Sirius commented dryly when he saw her bouncing towards the stairs to her dormitory. Remus and Peter turned to look; Hermione simply beamed at them and was surprised when Sirius nodded approvingly, a small smile on his face.

"James talked to you then?"

"Yes," Hermione replied happily, "but he has his rounds, so we're going to talk more about it later." She then departed to the girls' dormitories to pass the time, counting the roses and reading and rereading the messages he had written for her, smiling and rubbing the soft petals between her fingers.

In the midst of it all, she wondered what else did James have to say. She felt peaceful now, lighthearted; even so, she sensed that War was subtly changing him—how, she did not know. Perhaps he was more purposeful, fiercely protective of those around him, and though it had been the root of their disagreement, she loved him all the more for it.

At quarter to ten, Hermione hopped from the bed, ran to a nearby mirror to check herself and was surprised to see her cheeks flushed with anticipation. A few brushes through curly hair and she was done, rushing to the common room and hoping she was in time to welcome James back.

Fifth and seventh years, studying for their respective exams, littered the floors and couches. Hermione scanned the room but found no sign of him. She walked over to the Marauders and plopped down next to Peter.

"Hasn't James returned yet?" she casually asked.

"Nuh-uh," Sirius replied, and Peter and Remus shook their heads as well. Hermione randomly snatched a book on the table and idly flicked over its pages, slowly becoming interested in the advanced defensive jinxes it contained.

The clock struck ten, but on and on she read, unmindful of the passing time until Peter had stood up, stretched his arms over his head and announced that he was going to bed. She looked up from the book, her eyes straying to clock, and she realised with a jolt that it was already half past ten.

Anxiety gnawed her insides; she replaced the book on the table and said, "Why haven't they come back yet? Did something happen?"

"Something must've held them up, yeah," Sirius said. He rummaged in his bag for something and held out a parchment to her. "Check the map."

Hermione took it, tapped it with her wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." She searched the hallways and corridors for either James's or Lily's names and, finding both within the Astronomy Tower, told Sirius and Remus about it.

"It's what they visit last," Remus mildly said. "It means they're on their way back."

Somewhat comforted, Hermione kept her eyes on the map, studiously looking at other places and yet always going back to the Astronomy Tower, where James and Lily were. The anxiety turned to uneasy jealousy; what was taking them so long up there?

Ten minutes passed, and still the bubbles remained. Hermione tapped the map once again, muttered, "Mischief managed," and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Sirius asked in surprise.

"Out," Hermione answered evasively. "May I bring the map?"

The knowing look in Sirius' grey eyes as he appraised her made her uncomfortable, but he merely shrugged in response. She mustered a quick thanks as she rushed to the portrait hole, climbed out and hurried to her destination, taking care to check the map every once in a while. Thankfully, the professors seemed to have finished their own inspection of the castle, and Peeves was busy with the Bloody Baron in the Slytherin dungeons, so it was with no complications that she reached the Astronomy Tower.

Cautiously, she scaled the walls leading to the gate to the rooftop. She heard muffled voices, one distinctly male and the other female, and Hermione did not doubt they belonged to James and Lily. She could not discern the words, however, so she inched closer until she was near enough to peer around the brick wall.

Lily was standing near James, her eyes puffy as though she had been crying. James was saying something, his voice low. The conversation was obviously of a personal nature, and something inside Hermione kept her from announcing her presence.

And so she watched, fearful of what would unfold.

* * *

James followed Lily to the Astronomy Tower, knowing it would take only a quick look around to ensure that nobody was out of hours. They had met few students on their patrol tonight—perhaps only those who were foolhardy enough to wander even after the Death Eaters' excursion into Hogwarts.

Holding his lit wand aloft, he inspected the left expanse of the rooftop, taking care to check behind the statues, where snogging couples preferred to hide. Lily searched the right side; they did their rounds together now as per Dumbledore's instructions.

"Nothing here, Lily," James called as he walked towards her. "Everything all right there?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Lily replied flatly, meeting him halfway. James's features came into view, illuminated by their wands, and she envied the serenity manifested therein. "How do you that?" she grumpily asked.

James blinked in confusion. "Do what?"

Lily looked out over the grounds. "Stay happy," she answered. "Even after meeting them, fighting them... But I suppose it's different for you, isn't it?"

James tensed. How stupid he had been not to notice the melancholic air Lily had been carrying the past week. But then again, they rarely spoke to each other even when they were walking together, and James was particularly keen to avoid conversation with her. This week, though, he must have been too lost in his own desolate thoughts to pay her attention; he suddenly felt unreasonably guilty.

"I found it comforting, did you know," Lily continued, this time gazing at him, "that you seem troubled as I did." She scrunched up her face. "I tried talking to Alice, to my friends, but they... They didn't seem to understand. And then I thought you'd be the best one to understand."

"Well, I've had friends to talk to," James said, feeling incredibly awkward. "And I thought they wouldn't get me, but I was wrong."

Lily smiled faintly. "Like I said, it's different for you. Sirius was there too. And—" A dull pain socked her gut. "That girl, Regina."

_What am I supposed to say next? What does she want me to say?_ James replied uncomfortably, "Well, if you want to talk, go ahead."

It seemed to James that her green eyes grew brighter, and he knew he should look away but found himself unable to do so. He stared as she retold him how she had duelled with the Death Eater and how she accidentally ended up killing him. Lily was crying now, and his hands stayed dumbly by his sides, unable to offer even a comforting pat.

"Er—what did Dumbledore say?"

Lily gave a small hiccup. "That it wasn't my fault, of course. Only... I see his face, frozen, not knowing he was falling to his death..." She shivered. "And I'm scared of what will happen if V—V—Vold—He-Who-Must—he finds out who did it, or if any of the Death Eaters do. What if they go after my friends, or my family? They're Muggles, they have almost no protection." She sniffed and dried her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"In a strange way, I do not regret what I did to defend myself. You know how Dumbledore keeps saying we need to be prepared for what's out there?" She laughed shortly. "I did not expect to have to do battle here in school. It's just like an examination, only... Only one curse separates you from life and death."

James couldn't keep his eyes off her now. Under the moonlight and speaking pensively the words that mirrored his own thoughts, Lily Evans had never looked more beautiful.

"Are you scared, Lily?"

"Not for myself." Lily gnawed at her bottom lip and then added, "I know that there is a war, that we're going to get caught up in it sooner or later... I had merely hoped it would be later, perhaps during Auror training. But not here. Not at Hogwarts. If it can happen here, nowhere is safe then."

"You'd be safe with me," James murmured fiercely. Lily's emerald eyes widened even more, and James wondered how in the world had she gotten that close, and he instantly regretted his words. "And your friends, you'd be safe with your friends," he mumbled to cover his embarrassment, but Lily wasn't listening.

She flung her arms around him, clinging to him tightly and dropping her wand in the process. James panicked and was about to step back from her, but she nestled her face on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand to stroke her back, hoping to comfort her, and then his other hand had found its way to her waist.

Lily lifted her head and gazed into his eyes as she allowed her hands to travel up and entwine at the back of his neck. Reflexively, James moved his hands up her back as well and encountered soft, wavy hair; he felt her shift as she stood on tiptoes, and she was closer than ever, the freckles dotting her cheeks now visible.

Mesmerised, James dipped his head, bending—slowly, excruciatingly slowly—until his lips were a mere fraction from hers...

* * *

Hermione felt dizzy, her head spinning after having held her breath the entire time. She attempted to gulp some air and instead emitted a hoarse, pained gasp; hastily, she stuffed her knuckles into her mouth, her entire body trembling.

She couldn't take it anymore. She took one step back, accidentally causing a twig to crack. Hermione barely heard it. Blinded by tears, her breathing ragged, she ran away as fast as she could. It was a miracle that she found her way back to her dormitory. She hurled herself onto the bed, hugged her pillow to herself and cried.

No matter how hard she tried to hold on, James was slipping away from her.

Destiny was putting up a damn good fight.

* * *

A light breeze swept past the couple atop the Astronomy Tower and blew the tendrils of Lily's hair across his face. Her lavender perfume drifted to his nose, and unbidden to his mind came the memory of the sensual vanilla he had once favoured.

James jerked his head back up just before his lips touched hers, and Lily's eyes flew open. As though burned, she disentangled herself from his arms and bent to retrieve her wand from the floor, her long hair concealing her blush.

"I—er—we'd best be getting back," James said uneasily.

"Yes, we should," Lily managed, determinedly not looking at him. The two of them walked back to Gryffindor tower in clumsy silence. James saw Remus and Sirius sitting on the couch as they emerged through the portrait hole, saw their identical expressions of shock and—perhaps it was just his conscience—reproach. Nevertheless, he welcomed with relief the light of the common room.

He was about to join his friends when Lily touched his arm in restraint. When he turned to her, she offered him a soft smile and said, gentler than what he would have liked, "Thanks for lending an ear, James."

_James. James._ His name rang in his ears. _Not Potter. _Since when had he hoped she would call him like this? Had this occurred sooner, he would have whooped with joy and prance around like a madman, but things were different now.

And he didn't regret it, did he?

"No problem," he replied, attempting a mix of detachment and warmth and certain he had just failed. "Good night."

"Good night," Lily echoed.

James did not watch her go, nor did he think he should have in the first place. To hide his discomfort, he joined his friends in front of the fire. He could feel their probing eyes on him, but he was not tolerant enough to answer any suspicious inquiries tonight. His mind was full of what had just happened—_oh no, nothing happened, Prongs, old boy_.

That reminder of vanilla... Thank Merlin he remembered Regina in time.

James sat up abruptly, his glasses sliding down his nose. "Regina," he said. He looked at his friends. "Have you—have you seen her?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Now _he_ remembers," he told Sirius, his words tinged with spite.

Befuddled, James sputtered, "I, yeah, well—it slipped my mind." He glanced at the clock and saw that it had barely passed eleven o'clock. "Well, I suppose I should be glad she didn't stay up to wait for me."

Sirius snorted and threw his best friend a dirty look. "She isn't an inconsiderate clod like you, Prongs."

"You mean she did wait?" James glanced around the common room. "Where is she then?"

"She got worried at ten-thirty and you weren't back yet, so she borrowed the map and checked," Remus said. "Regina said you were with Lily atop the Astronomy Tower, and I told her that meant you would be back soon, but she left soon after." His brow furrowed. "I assumed she went to find you..."

"I didn't see her at all," James replied, his blood running cold. If Regina had indeed gone to the Astronomy Tower... He could only imagine what she had seen.

"We assumed as much, since she returned without you. Distraught, I might add," Sirius said, his tone accusatory. "And of course I can see why," he added darkly.

James groaned, sinking back into the couch and feeling the beginnings of an intense headache. "She's got it wrong."

"Does she?" Sirius asked pointedly.

James frowned. "Of course she does. Nothing happened—it doesn't mean anything at all, doesn't change anything..." And then, aware that he was blabbering, firmly said, "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"You'd better," Sirius warned him icily. "You have a lot of explaining to do, and it sure must be better than the crap you're talking about now."

"Just shut it, Padfoot," James snapped. It seemed that these past few days, Sirius had done nothing but point out every one of his missteps—and, he thought irritably, defend Regina. When he told him so, he simply looked dumbfounded, as though James had missed several steps on his way down.

"With the string of bad decisions you've been making lately, how can anybody not notice?" James glared at him, but Sirius merely shrugged. "As for Regina... Merlin's beard, Prongs. She loves you, _and _she treats you well—sometimes even better than you deserve, so why should I not be on her side?"

Shortly after, Sirius and Remus declared it a night and decided to go to bed. Exhausted as he was, James continued staring into the fire, immersed in his own troubled ponderings. The world must've gone crazy for him to have landed in this situation. Whatever his shortcomings were, however his arrogance, he had always considered himself to be loyal. _Stubbornly loyal, in fact,_ he corrected himself, especially when it came to the Marauders.

So what was he doing messing around with two girls, especially hurting the one he said he loved, the one he said made him the happiest he had ever been?

James passed his hand over his face in frustration. Lily's green eyes, which had always captivated him, kept swimming before his vision long, and the shame that ensued from being dishonest to Regina was unbearable.

_Please, forgive me._

When James next opened his eyes, the logs had long been reduced to ashes, the cold offset by the sun's first rays stealing through the curtains. He stood up and stretched, surprisingly feeling well-rested after a harrowing night. Sleep had also cleared his mind; he had finally decided what to do.

It was only a minute later, when he was more awake, that he noticed the blanket lying on the floor—a warm, fuzzy blanket that had most likely fallen when he rose from the couch and that was certainly not over him last night.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Next chapter will finally reveal the answer to one of the frequently-asked questions, haha. I don't know when it will be up though; it will be almost as long as this chapter, maybe even longer, to incorporate all the necessary details. *prays nobody is getting bored with the pace* I'm going crazy trying to keep track of all of them, but hopefully I make it. :) Thanks to everybody who's been reading, especially those who have been reviewing and reminding me to update. Review responses are quite delayed though (see, I thought I had no right to answer them until I had posted a new chapter). :P


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** The opening lyrics come from the musical _Miss Saigon_, and funnily enough, they fit a scene I long have had in mind but have yet to write. By the way, I wonder if anybody noticed the silver necklace that was shown to be with Remus in the sixth chapter? I think somebody did and speculated that it was given to him by Hermione. Well, you'll find out in this chapter. :)

**Chapter Summary: **Separate, they are light: the sun brightens the day and the moon illuminates the night; together, as in an eclipse, they shroud the world in darkness. The fate of the Wizarding world depends on two young lovers, though they know it not—and destiny, master of its craft, has one final ace to deal.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Bound by Destiny  
**

_You are sunlight and I moon  
__Joined by the gods of fortune  
__Midnight and high noon  
Sharing the sky__  
We have been blessed  
__You and I.  
__Bright'ning the sky with  
The flame of love._

_--- _ _Richard Maltey (Sun and Moon) ---  
_

Struck by a sense of déjà vu, James lifted the blanket to his nose. There was no mistaking the scent of vanilla, and as he inhaled deeply, he felt his heart lift. Things were _definitely_ always better in the morning. Smiling slightly, he lovingly folded the blanket and tucked it under his arm as he headed upstairs for a quick shower. He arrived at the Great Hall twenty minutes later in high spirits, almost skipping his way to where Hermione and the rest of the Marauders were seated.

"Morning," James greeted cheerfully as he slid beside Hermione. Nobody responded, and James saw Sirius' eyes dart towards Hermione. Dread stole over him, and he chanced a brave look at her; her face was hard, unwelcoming, the way it was a mere week ago.

He nervously took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Er—hi," James ventured hopefully, but she showed no outward indication of having heard.

"Thanks for the blanket, I'll return it to you later."

Still she ignored him, and James shot his friends a pleading look. Sirius simply shrugged, Remus offered him a sympathetic frown and Peter seemed helpless. Annoyed, James studied Hermione's profile, and he thought he had never seen her so beautiful. Beautiful, yes, but cold. Cold and untouchable. He could not even bring himself to place a hand on her arm.

"Regina," James said, more quietly this time and abandoning pretence of cheerfulness, "about last night—"

"I know what I saw," Hermione gritted out, determinedly not looking at him. "Don't bother thinking up an excuse."

James swallowed visibly, tensing. "What exactly did you see?"

"Nothing I'd want to relive again, even in my mind, thank you very much," she snapped.

"Listen, Regina—"

"No, _you_ listen, James Potter!" Hermione fiercely whispered, drawing curious glances in their direction. She turned in her seat to face him, eyes blazing and nose flaring, and James had to fight the impulse to scoot a few inches back. "Didn't you tell me you would explain everything last night? I understand now, all right? I understand _perfectly_." She threw her fork down her plate and stood.

"Hey!" James protested, standing up to follow her as she stomped out of the Great Hall.

Hermione looked back, whipped her wand from her robes and wordlessly shot the Jelly-Legs Jinx at him.

"Regina!" James called, staggering somewhat as the curse hit him. He took another step and stumbled on rubbery legs, earning snickers from his fellow students. "Damn," he muttered angrily, retrieving his own wand and lifting the curse off himself. Able to stand again, he attempted to run after her, but again was hit by another jet of light that slowed him down. He struggled against the effects of the hex, and by the time he was able to freely move again, she was gone. He was about to take another step when he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Sirius.

"I think we can safely assume that she's angry, mate," Sirius said. "You better stay away from her for the meantime." He helped James as he gingerly stepped towards the bench and they both resumed their seats.

"Tell me," he demanded from his friends, unmindful of the attention that was still on him. "Does she really think I'd cheat on her?"

Sirius unconcernedly brushed locks of dark hair from his forehead. "Yes, she does," he answered. "She thinks you kissed Evans last night."

"I didn't—" James straightened from his slump. "Is that what she said?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "No, Prongs, the girl would never tell on you. But you know," he went on, eyeing him shrewdly, "you do look rather guilty. Don't tell me you were _indeed _kissing Evans last night."

James didn't answer, lost in his desolate thoughts. Remus, as though reading his mind, reasoned gently, "You must've done something to upset her, James. I mean, she knows you do rounds with Lily every night, and it's never been an issue until now."

In the glaring light of day, everything that had happened—that he had _allowed_ to happen—the night before seemed utterly foolish, and James wanted to bang his head on the table in self-rebuke. But he knew even that wouldn't take his mind away from the loud, painful thudding of his heart, hollow as though something essential had been lost.

_But then again_, he thought defensively, _tempted though I was, I didn't give in, did I?_

He had stopped himself kissing Lily just in time, and he had stopped because he remembered Regina.

_Right_, he affirmed defiantly to himself. _I didn't do anything wrong._ _There's nothing to worry about. _He looked up from his plate, his brow clearing.

"Prongs?" Peter timidly asked. "You okay?"

James smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine, Wormtail," he said. "Regina, well, she's probably just mad because I lost track of the time and forgot to meet her. She thinks I blew her off."

"You blew her off, Prongs," Sirius commented carelessly, wincing afterwards when Remus elbowed him sharply at his midsection. "What? I mean, Regina just doesn't think that. She _knows_ she was blown off."

"I _know_, Padfoot, so sod off," James replied irritably. "It was my mistake, all right, and I _know_ I have to apologise to her and make up for it, big time. _You_ can stop reminding me now." The squeaking inside his head told him he wasn't as certain as he sounded, but he silenced his doubts with the argument that the conclusion he had drawn from his musings was logical.

_ It's fine. I'm in the clear. I didn't do anything wrong._

To James's utter disbelief, _she_ did not think the same way. This much he could conclude, for he sat with her throughout class and during meals, attempting to engage her in conversation every other minute—to get her to notice him, damn all things to hell—but she resolutely, frustratingly, refused to acknowledge his presence. Were it not for the minute clenching of her jaw whenever he demanded her attention, he would have believed she didn't care the slightest about him.

By Tuesday afternoon—Merlin, it had only been three days, and he didn't feel like he could endure any longer—James was ready to explode. He walked into Charms to see a male Ravenclaw seated beside Hermione and, his temper igniting, he flicked his wand upwards: _Levicorpus!_

His classmate yelped as he was suspended mercilessly by the ankles, and the rest of the class gasped at this disturbance. Lily, who was sitting in the front row, stood and flicked her wand as she cast the countercurse in her head and immediately added aloud, "_Impedimenta!_" The boy fell headfirst to the floor, slowly so that he wasn't hurt, and after getting on his feet drew his wand and pointed it at James.

"What was that all about, Potter?" Dirk Andrews demanded angrily, punctuated by an infuriated snort from Lily, who also had her wand directed at James. "You try that again and you—you'll get what you're looking for!"

Momentarily distracted by the renewed display of displeasure from Lily, James found himself at a loss for words.

"And here I thought you had traded your immaturity for something better, James," Lily said, ignoring the muted gasp around the room that resulted from her use of her archenemy's first name. It was, after all, common knowledge that she hated James Potter, and when she had become quite cordial towards him nobody could figure out. "You were lucky Flitwick wasn't around to witness that little stunt."

Reluctant to address Lily, James spoke instead to the Ravenclaw. "You took my seat," he told him calmly.

"I what?" Dirk rolled his eyes. "I've been sitting there since the start of term, Potter."

James glowered. How could the punk fail to miss such a crucial point? "Yes, well, my place is _always_ right next to hers." He nodded toward Hermione. "Therefore—"

"Whatever, you can have it then," Dirk scoffed, grabbing his things on the chair. "As for you, don't ever sit beside me again," he snarled at Hermione.

Hermione didn't flinch at his words, but James advanced on him, his wand at the ready. "Apologise to her," he said threateningly. "Apologise!" When Dirk showed no signs of relenting, James shrugged and said, "Fine. Fifty points from Ravenclaw."

"James!" Lily exclaimed, appalled, her words echoed by growls from the other Ravenclaws. "You know you can't do this—Andrews, that's enough!" she scolded Dirk, who had his own wand at the ready again as well.

"Boys, boys! Is something the matter?" they heard a voice squeak, and after a moment, tiny Professor Flitwick had propped himself up on the stool behind the front desk so that he was visible. He warily eyed James, Dirk and Lily but, seeing none of them sporting any injuries, he said, "All right, wands away now, you know you shouldn't be behaving as such with your exams coming..."

Lily had by this time returned to her seat, Dirk had chosen to move an empty desk, and James had dumped his bag carefully on what was now his table before carefully settling himself in. A quick look at the board told him Professor Flitwick had started his lesson; not in the mood, James shifted slightly in his seat to study the girl beside him. He clenched his fists under the table in frustration; she seemed unperturbed by the recent disturbance. Her quill—the one he had given her—streaked across the parchment in tandem with the lecture.

James sighed; it took all of his self-control not to grab the quill from her and force her to talk to him. The minutes crawled by, the drumming of his fingers becoming more impatient, and the moment Professor Flitwick had dismissed them, he encircled Hermione's wrist with his fingers to keep her from leaving.

Hermione went rigid in her seat, not daring to look at him, or to even breathe, for that matter. She fixed her eyes on his hand around her wrist and waited.

"Regina, please," James murmured urgently. "I cannot stand this... this cold treatment any longer. I'd rather you yell yourself hoarse at me until all your anger's spent, but please, _please_, let me talk. Before or after you yell, I don't care, as long as you hear me out."

Hermione smiled without humour. "Well, if you really need to talk, why don't you go over to Lily?" His grip on her slackened, and she heartlessly ploughed on, "After all, the two of you seem to understand each other better—enough, in fact, to be in each other's arms." Her voice cracked. "I _don't_ want to talk about it, James, do you understand? Not yet, and maybe not ever." She jerked her arm, stood and rapidly walked away.

"Damn." Not bothering to follow her this time, James groaned and cradled his head in his hands. _So she saw that, you stupid arse._ "Damn. Damn." He forcefully seized his bag and saw, when he turned around, his friends staring concernedly at him.

"Let's go," he told them, unwilling to discuss what had just happened. As they made their way to the dungeons for Potions, Sirius asked, rather conversationally, "She still doesn't want to talk to you?"

"Yeah," James muttered. "But at least I know now what she's really angry about." _Not that it tells me explicitly how to go about things, but still._

"You'll just have to keep at it, won't you?" Remus said. "Try until either you or she concedes, whichever comes first."

James's expression darkened. "Giving up on her is the last thing on my mind, Moony."

"Funnily enough, that's the story of your life, isn't it," Sirius mused. "Blimey, you spend years on Lily, and then decide you're in love with another, and when you get her, you do a lousy job of keeping her and so must try to win her back again."

James smiled crookedly despite himself. "Thanks for that enlightening piece, Padfoot. But if you could channel your brain waves into helping me, I'd appreciate it more."

They walked in silence. As they descended the dimly-lit steps to the dungeons, Peter volunteered, "If it was me, I'd make her talk to me. I'd do anything to make her listen, make sure she had no other option." He blushed afterwards; he rarely spoke of his interest in girls, and it was a relief for him to hear nobody laugh at his words.

"Are you suggesting that James kidnap her and have her at wandpoint?" Sirius ribbed.

"No, of course not," Peter replied. "But I rather remember the time James locked Lily and himself in a broom cupboard just so he could confess his love and ask her out again—"

"Only Lily was just as good with a wand as James and so our boy here had to relent, lest he be jinxed beyond repair," Remus finished, laughing at the memory. "Operation Number, what was that? Two hundred and forty-two?" James had to be brought to the hospital wing to be sorted out after that _brilliant_ plan.

"Nah, it was two hundred and sixty-three," Sirius answered. "But I've lost track, to be honest..."

James was no longer listening to them, the wheels of his mind starting to turn. "Wormtail," he suddenly said, "I think you're on to something." He turned sharply to face Sirius and asked, "Do you think you can lend her _that_ thing?"

It only took a split second for Sirius to understand. He gaped at his best friend. "You're asking me to do what? You know how precious it is to me, to _us_, Prongs." He shook his hair out of his eyes. "No, no. I cannot do that. _No way._"

"Come on," James cajoled, ignoring the other Marauders' confusion. "Just this once. You can have it back tomorrow. Or, you can lend me yours if you want to, and I'll give her mine. Whichever." They were at the door to their classroom now. When Sirius didn't answer, James prodded, "Come _on_, Sirius. I need your help."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "All right, all right," he agreed, finally caving in. "I'll lend _you_ mine." He rummaged in his rucksack, his hand emerging with a package wrapped in paper. He gave it to James, who immediately slid it into his pocket.

"In your bag, Prongs, you might end up sitting on it," Sirius chided, and with an exasperated sigh, James did as he was told.

Remus, finally understanding, chuckled as he turned the handle on the door and pushed it open. "I certainly hope to Merlin neither of you lands detention tonight."

* * *

Hermione sat back on the couch and curled her legs under for comfort, letting out a huge sigh as she stared thoughtfully into the fire. A book on Herbology, which she had borrowed from the library, lay open on her lap but had gone unnoticed for the past half hour. Giving it up as a bad job, Hermione sighed again, closed the book and put it aside.

_ Exams are less than three weeks away, Hermione,_ a stern voice scolded her. _Pick that right up again. This isn't how you work._

She ignored it. The voice had been spot on; this wasn't how she was, but then this wasn't where she was supposed to be anyway. This wasn't how she was supposed to feel... The dam of doubts that she had kept in place with her happiness washed over her in great waves, and she closed her eyes tight in the hope that it would lessen the impact.

_ I made considerable effort to be here, Professor. I could have failed, but I succeeded. That means I should do what I've come to do._

_Would fate have allowed me this liberty if it wasn't meant to happen?_

Her words came back in a nauseating rush, and she had to exhale loudly to release the tension. Looking back, she wondered now: if she had failed with the Time-Turner then, would she have stopped trying to return to the past?

_I don't know. Does that matter? I succeeded anyway!_

Deep down, Hermione knew she would have sought other means, extinguished them all one by one until no hope remained. But she had done it on her first attempt; surely, that meant destiny had a place for what she wanted?

But she had been warned against using it, just before she turned the hourglass three times. _Harry..._ He seemed so far away now, and yet, that thought—that horrible thought she could not bear dwelling upon persisted.

_You know that if you carry on with James, Harry will not exist._

She could have a son with him, yes, could even name him Harry, but Hermione wasn't stupid enough to fool herself her son would be the same as Harry, Lily's son. And she was forgetting herself, of course. What was to be done, what was going to happen to her own birth?

_I don't know either._

Hermione passed her hand across her face in frustration at the things she didn't know and struggled to continue walking down her memory lane. She had arrived nineteen years back with nothing, absolutely nothing, but her wand, and she had expected to find herself in the arms of the man—no, _boy_—she had come back for... Only to find that, of course, he had been pitifully vying for Lily Evans' affection for years.

How she had wanted to go home then! But she had stayed, had _chosen_ to do so, had befriended him and the other Marauders, in the hope that he would, in time, come to love her.

_And he did._ A small smile curved her lips. _I know he did. But perhaps he never stopped loving Lily._

_You're a fine one to be jealous, stealing another woman's husband._ There it was again: that self-righteous, annoying know-it-all voice that seemed intent on pointing out every one of her mistakes. She didn't suppose it was her conscience, for surely, a conscience would not consider only the hard facts but also how she felt about these? And to use such crass words—_stealing another woman's husband, oh Merlin_... She shuddered. Crass or no, wasn't it in every sense true?

Shame pounded Hermione's being mercilessly, and she could not find it in her heart to argue that in this time, James wasn't Lily's—_anybody's_—husband yet. Not that it mattered, for if destiny was to have its way, James would be with Lily.

_Only if._

Realisation dawned on her face; all her ponderings had not been for naught. She saw now, that always, every step of the way, she had been given a choice: to turn her back on what was happening or to persist. And always, she had persisted, had decided to go on, and thankfully she had been rewarded.

Now, in the midst of all her hurt and doubt, another choice had to be made.

_Maybe I should give in and listen to him,_ she thought, mindlessly tossing a log into the fire._ It wouldn't hurt to hear what he has to say. Maybe there is an explanation, maybe he really is sorry... maybe it's really me he wants to be with._

"Regina?"

Hermione started and looked up to see Sirius, Remus and Peter settling into the couch opposite hers.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked, watching her closely. "We were watching you from there—"

"—And you kept making funny faces," Peter chimed in. "So we thought we'd see how you were doing."

Surprise must have been etched that clearly on her face, for Sirius said defensively, "What? Just because you and James aren't on speaking terms doesn't mean we can't talk to you, right?"

_The Sirius Black charm,_ came a rueful thought. Hermione offered him a small grin in apology. "Yes, of course." She turned away from the fire to face them fully. "So what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, nothing in particular, really," Remus assured her.

"Yeah, we wanted somebody to mess with and we thought you were most qualified for the job," Sirius said, and they all snickered at that.

"Say," Remus began, leaning towards her, "we're sending our application to Auror Academy within the week. Have you any plans of applying?"

_That's right._ If she had intentions of staying, she had to prepare for her future. "I don't know," Hermione answered, reminded of how many times she had said that to herself earlier that night. "Perhaps, but I suppose I'll have to talk to Dumbledore first."

"Probably to fix your records and all, right?" Peter said knowingly. "Get you grades from your old school or something."

"Yeah," Hermione said, cringing inwardly. "I'll have to do that."

"I don't think you'll have any problems though," Remus told her kindly. Frowning, he added, "I think I'm going to have trouble with Potions. No grade lower than an _Exceeds Expectations_, mind you..."

Sirius snorted. "I expect an _Outstanding_ in every required subject and an _E_ in Potions, so what is there to worry about?"

Peter, by this point, was looking very much terrified. "What if I don't secure the minimum grade?"

"N.E.W.T.s aren't for more than a fortnight, Wormtail," Remus said consolingly. "We'll help review you, don't worry."

Talk about their prospective careers temporarily pushed James from her mind. Hermione leaned forward, engaging herself in conversation. "The route to Healing pretty much requires the same, doesn't it?" she asked, and at Remus' affirmative, added, "I thought I also fancied doing that."

Remus smiled. "I do as well," he said, "but Sirius here is attracted to the glamour of being an Auror."

"Course not, Moony," Sirius contradicted indignantly. "It's more about being in the thick of the action, leading the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters." His grey eyes were suddenly overbright, and he continued hastily and in a less passionate voice, "But there's three more months of additional training to qualify as an Auror."

"Well, that's better than a year or two of additional schooling, isn't it?" Peter chirped. "Three months doesn't sound so bad."

"It's two years worth of training squeezed into three months out of necessity, Peter," Remus said quietly, "which makes it a million times more difficult."

"Then they must be in dire need of Aurors," Hermione mused.

Silence fell momentarily, which Sirius broke by saying, "I haven't been getting the _Daily Prophet_ since yesterday. Last time I read, some Wizarding village was burned down—"

"You read the news," Hermione commented mildly, impressed.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "So now you know I'm not the complete idiot you think I am."

"What're you thinking then, Sirius, that somebody's taken over the _Daily Prophet_ now?" Remus enquired.

Sirius shrugged. "It's not a far-fetched possibility. Control the newspaper, and then the Ministry..." He lost his train of thought as the portrait hole opened and saw James climb in with Lily, both of whom were immersed in their own conversation.

Hermione craned her neck to check what had distracted Sirius, and her expression instantly turned wooden. She smiled tightly at Sirius, Peter and Remus, grabbed the Herbology book beside her and jumped up from the couch. "I'm turning in. Good night." She began walking to the stairs to her dormitory, not daring to look at James and Lily as she passed them.

"Regina?"

Hermione stopped in her tracks; recognising Sirius' voice, she deemed it safe to turn around. "What is it?"

"When you change from your school robes," Sirius said, "be careful, all right? I wouldn't want you to break something you weren't aware of." The three Marauders sitting on the couch broke into mischievous smiles.

"Right," Hermione replied with a confused frown, wanting to get away fast. From the corner of her eye she knew James was looking at her. She'd be damned if she was going to say anything to him. "Good night then."

It was only upstairs, after dropping her robes to the floor and hearing a muted thunk, that she remembered Sirius' strange words. She dug into the right pocket of her robe and fished out a package messily wrapped in paper. Anybody could've slipped it in, she knew, but the pounding of her heart told her that only James, who sat by her side almost the entire day, could've done it.

She carefully removed the flaps of paper to reveal an oval, handheld mirror. Hermione reached for her wand, lit it and tapped the back of the mirror while muttering, "_Specialis Revelio!_" Blue light radiated from the glass; even so, she couldn't figure out the mirror's enchantment. She slowly turned it over and looked into it.

_What a surprise,_ she thought in sarcasm as she saw her own reflection. Deciding there was nothing more to the mirror and that it had been surreptitiously placed to annoy her, she put it beside her pillow, pulled the curtains and sank into her bed. As was usual as of late, whenever she was alone, her mind strayed to James. She hugged her pillow tightly and sighed, allowing her desolate thoughts to wash over her without pity. After a while she laughed aloud at the irony of it all, murmuring, "Well, well. How many times in her life will Hermione Granger not know what to do?"

_I thought you were Regina Weisz now._

"Shut up," she ordered the voice in her head. "Stop bothering me, I've got enough going on as it is."

"Regina."

Hermione stilled, wondering if she was hallucinating. She fixed her eyes on the ceiling and was startled to find a circle of light projected there.

"Regina."

There it was again, that firm voice somewhere to her right, more urgent this time. She swiped her hand blindly and hit nothing. Shifting on her side, she finally noticed that the light came from the mirror. She cautiously picked it up, feeling its warmth, and held it up to her face.

She dropped it with a gasp.

"Hey, it's me! It's nothing to worry about," the voice, now muffled, said.

Hermione hastily retrieved the mirror from her chest. "What is this mirror?" she hissed at the chiselled face with hazel eyes that stared back at her.

James had the nerve to grin, apparently pleased at catching her off guard. "Whatever happened to hello, how are you?"

She merely raised an eyebrow and said haughtily, "I haven't got time for pleasantries." His grin turned down a notch. "So what is this mirror?"

"A two-way one," James replied slyly. "Sirius and I have one each; we use it to talk to each other during separate detentions."

"Well thankfully, I am _not_ in detention, James. So good night."

James's eyes flashed. "No, wait, please!"

Something in his voice, a ferocity that she had never heard before, made her look into the mirror again. His eyes, startlingly beautiful without his glasses, had darkened, and it was with determined calm when next he spoke.

"Look, Regina," he began. "I've been doing my best for days to talk to you. Surely I deserve some credit."

"Oh yes, it was absolutely brave and so very charming of you to jinx Andrews just so you can sit next to me," Hermione interrupted tartly.

Unrelenting, James pressed on. "The point is, I _tried_. All I want is for you to listen to what I have to say. After that, you can do whatever you want—hex me, break up with me—" His jaw clenched. "Never speak to me again. Your call."

When Hermione didn't answer, he said gently, "So, can we talk now?"

Hermione grumbled, "I suppose so. It doesn't seem like I have any choice."

James nodded slowly, as though in consideration, and then suddenly...

_PLUNK!_

Hermione jumped and gave a little half-scream, which she immediately silenced by clamping a hand to her mouth.

"I'm at the window," James said, a small smile twisting his lips. He had put his glasses back on. "Would you mind opening it?"

She stared disbelievingly at him, wondering if he was serious.

"I thought it would be better for us to talk in person."

Hermione felt that familiar warm, tingly feeling begin to spread, and she pursed her lips to conceal her amusement. _You don't believe in doing things halfway, do you?_ "In a moment," she whispered. She stood, smoothed down her clothes, pulled the curtains and slid the window open.

The cold night wind blew past her, but she hardly noticed. Her undivided attention was on the young man on his broomstick, hovering outside her dormitory as though it was the most natural thing on earth. His hair stuck up in all directions, and his eyes gazed at her with such painful, honest intensity that she was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Oh Merlin, he had such power over her, it was dangerous!

James manoeuvred his Nimbus so that he closed the distance between them. "Hi," he greeted nervously. "Thanks for agreeing—"

"Get to the point, James," Hermione said curtly, his words jolting her into reality.

"Er, sure." James swallowed, his hand tensing around the wood. "So Regina, about what happened that night..." His eyes met hers. "I was with Lily, and we were doing our rounds. And then... Lily began to talk about Voldemort. She said things that, well—that sort of mirrored my heart, what I was going to say to you. What I thought about confiding in you. Remember I was supposed to be with you that night?"

Her expression became frighteningly stony, and he hurriedly went on, his gaze unwavering, "I won't deny it, the way she made me feel. It was as though she understood me perfectly, without me having to say a word, because we had gone through the same thing. She was crying, so yes, I held her, and yes, I got carried way, I almost kissed her—"

"Almost?" Hermione repeated bitterly. "I saw you leaning towards her... What, don't tell me you missed her lips? Or no, wait! Perhaps, finally, you remembered me and stopped just in time?"

A short, poignant pause, and then—

"Yes, that's exactly what happened," James admitted softly. "I remembered you."

Hermione crossed her arms and snorted derisively.

"I'm not making excuses, nor am I trying to defend what I did. I mean, regardless of whether or not I kissed her, it was my fault for letting things go that far. But please believe me when I say that I had only wanted to comfort her as a friend, nothing more crossed my mind..."

"Are you done yet?" Hermione snapped. "Because our deal was that once you've had your say, I can have mine."

He looked as though she had struck him, but he calmly held up a hand. "Just a few more things then," he said, his voice only slightly trembling. "First, I want to apologise. I never meant to hurt you."

Tears sprang into her eyes, turning them into liquid chocolate, but she did not speak. Oh, how he wanted to hold her!

"I know I made a mistake and screwed us up, and I don't suppose it's right for me expect you to forgive me now, but maybe someday..." His words trailed off and, unable to stand it any longer, he turned towards the inky black sky. He gazed at it for what seemed like hours, wanting her to speak and at the same time dreading it.

With a regretful sigh, James braved another look at her. "Well, that's all I really wanted to say," he lied, knowing full well there were three words he yet had to utter but felt were pointless. "Sorry for bothering you. Good night."

He had just whipped his broom in reverse when he heard her say sharply, "Now you're leaving without listening what I have to say? You're not good at keeping promises, are you, James?"

He instantly wheeled around, his heart thumping, his face wary and stricken. And then she spoke again, her voice so light he could have imagined it, bringing words he had been longing to hear.

"I'm not mad at you anymore."

James's hands slipped off the broom in shock, and he staggered. "You're not?"

A wobbly smile curved her lips. "No, not anymore," she said tiredly. "Anger is exhausting, you know."

Hoping against hope, James dared ask, "Does this mean... I get a second chance? I mean..." A shadow crossed her face, and he faltered. "Does this mean I have a chance to get a second chance?"

Hermione smiled sadly. After all her earlier ruminations on destiny and whether her foray into the past was enough a fight against fate, she had come to the realisation that always, she had had a choice.

Unfortunately for her, so did James.

"I think that maybe you should think things over first. No, listen to me, James," Hermione said firmly, for he showed signs of interrupting. "I know that you've fancied Lily for years, and that morning after you got drunk, when you acted like you were over her..." She gazed pensively into the distance. "I found that difficult to believe. And then you started paying attention to me." She turned to him now, her expression tortured. "You told me then that you weren't using me, not at all, and maybe you didn't intend to, but maybe... Maybe you didn't realise then that you were still in love with Lily."

Hermione dropped her eyes once again, scared of what she would read in his. Now it was her turn to wait for his response, but he maintained his silence. Her trepidation grew with each second that passed, tightly squeezing her heart, and just when she couldn't bear it any longer, he opened his mouth to speak.

"All right," James said seriously and with utter conviction. "I've thought it out, and I've decided." His eyes locked with and bore into hers.

"It's you I want."

Hermione thought she would faint with relief at those four words, didn't realise that she'd been holding her breath until then.

"It's you I love, you I need to be with," he solemnly continued, drawing closer to her. "I think the real question here is..." He hesitated for a moment. "If you'll still have me."

Without warning, he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers, waiting for her to push him away. When she didn't, James kissed her fully, the way he knew how, aching to convey his love, his longing, his desperation that she take him back. He felt her begin to respond, but then, to his chagrin, she pushed him away gently.

_This is so unfair._ As much as his kiss had moved her, had made her want to put her arms around him and kiss him back and never let him go, she could not. She just could not. There was a time when she needed only for him to look at her and the happiness that filled her would vanquish her doubts, but for some reason she had yet to fathom, that time was past.

An infinite, unexplainable sadness overwhelmed her, and despite the wary, pained hazel eyes staring at her, Hermione started sliding the window close. "Goodnight, James."

* * *

The next couple of days were, at the very least, quiet. Hermione was grateful for the peace this little truce afforded her; she and James had yet to argue, but then again they had yet to talk properly to each other. Even though he still sat next to her in class and during meals, their interactions had been dry as History of Magic.

"Excuse me, what did Slughorn say?" he had asked her politely in Potions class yesterday afternoon.

"To sprinkle powdered dragon claw instead," she had answered flatly. It was driving her crazy, blunting her affect on purpose when she was so damned conscious of every movement he made!

"Thank you," James had said blandly.

And again, her response had been just as mechanical. "You're welcome."

Whenever they were in the Great Hall, he would only ask her to pass the roast, the potatoes, could she please hand him a glass of pumpkin juice. She would comply, struggling to keep her face blank, because she knew what he was doing. She had seen him act quite as coldly towards Lily back then.

He was angry with her.

_ I suppose I asked for it,_ Hermione thought unhappily. She was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Sirius, Peter and Remus, all of them supposedly studying for their N.E.W.T.s, which were a mere fortnight away. She glanced at the huge clock that hung over the fireplace and saw that it was half past nine; James and Lily were due any minute now.

_Talking and laughing, as if they had been friends for years..._

"I could use a cup of hot chocolate," Sirius said, momentarily stretching on the couch before curling up again. "All this studying's making me sleepy."

"I wonder what the rest of the world would say if they saw you like this, hitting the books," Remus mused, his voice startlingly hoarse. "Probably that it had gone crazy, huh?"

"Moony, Moony, Moony," Sirius said mockingly, shaking his head. "The rest of the world studies to pass; I study to _perfect_."

Hermione snorted at his arrogance.

Sirius glanced at her. "You can laugh, but I can tell you aren't having much progress there, are you." It was true, he noticed. She was sitting next to Remus, flicking idly for the past fifteen minutes through the pages of the book she'd borrowed.

A rueful smile curved her lips. "Yeah, I could use some hot chocolate as well. Might help me concentrate."

Peter, whose face was scrunched up in thought as he pored over a long parchment of Remus' notes, volunteered, "Well, it's almost ten. James will be back soon with five steaming cups of chocolate."

_That's about as normal as he can act,_ Hermione reflected, thinking on the past nights, _because even then we wouldn't be speaking to each other. At least not directly. Or at all._

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and you know what? One of these days, Evans might actually join us for a nightcap." His voice was heavily infused with sarcasm.

Remus threw him a dirty look, but Sirius just shrugged. "What? You can't deny they're friends now. I never thought I'd live to see this day. Lily Evans actually talking to and seemingly having fun with James Potter." He jabbed a finger in the air. "Now that, Moony, is what you call the world going crazy."

Remus was looking worriedly at her, understandably waiting for her to react, but sadly, Hermione knew Sirius was right. Dead on as usual. This—she didn't know, spectacle, she had witnessed for herself. Seen them kidding around, Lily even punching James playfully on the shoulder. Wonder of wonders, Lily seemed to genuinely like the man she had not too long ago declared she hated.

She didn't know why it didn't surprise her that James wasn't shying away.

Concerned, Peter addressed her, "You and James have broken up?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer. "Well, I—"

"Because that's a shame," Peter continued, gnawing at his bottom lip. "You two were good together, and I rather liked having you around."

Hermione smiled wobbly at this, taken aback. "Thanks."

"Not that you can't hang out with us anymore, Regina," Remus reassured her.

"Wait, who said anything about breaking up?" Sirius demanded, eyeing her. "You can't be serious?"

"Well of course that would be you, mate," Remus interjected dryly, but Sirius was too busy with Hermione to even glare at his friend for stealing his joke.

"What really happened?"

_All I wanted,_ Hermione explained in her head, _was for us to take some time off so he could think us through. So that if—when—we get back together, he's certain it's me he loves, not Lily._

_But he told you already!_ another voice shouted. _It's up to you, he said, and you didn't answer him!_

And then a third, snide voice. _After all you've been through to have him, you're pushing him away? You're insane!_

"All right, forget it," Sirius said, raising his hands in surrender. "It's not as if you're going to tell us. Sorry I asked." He stood and gathered his things. "I'm calling it a night. Have to put in some sleep before tomorrow."

Peter stood as well, glancing meaningfully at Remus. "You should get some rest too. Night, Moony."

"Night." Remus watched Sirius and Peter climb the stairs to their room before turning to Hermione, who was now studying him intently. He felt the blood drain from his face.

"You do look tired," she commented worriedly. She put down the book and moved closer to him to lay her palm on his forehead.

Remus flushed.

She withdrew her hand, frowning. "You don't have a fever, but you do look peaky."

Not knowing whether to be alarmed or embarrassed at the attention, Remus inched away. "I'm fine. Just quite stressed, you know, from studying."

But she wasn't buying it, Remus realised. In her large, beautiful eyes flashed a light of sudden recognition, as though she knew the truth about what was happening, and no, she could not be... She couldn't really know.

"I forgot," she breathed. "It's the full moon tomorrow."

Remus closed his eyes briefly and clenched his fists. _James had been telling the truth back then!_ "Did James tell you?" he asked, his voice rigidly controlled.

Hermione was startled at this implied accusation. "No, no, I figured it out on my own." She reached out and covered Remus' right hand. "I've known since my first month here."

He looked at their hands and was aware of his heart beating too fast for its own good, too fast that it was simply _wrong_. Yet even so a rare lightheadedness stole over him, and he heard himself asking, "You don't mind? You aren't, I don't know, disgusted or ashamed that you're friends with me?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to cry; instead, she put her arms around him, and Remus, swallowing his gawk of surprise, awkwardly returned her hug. She disentangled herself from him after a few seconds and sat down.

"Remus, how could anybody think that way? You're so kind, so gentle," Hermione said, her voice vibrating with intensity. "You're a wonderful person, Remus Lupin. Don't ever believe otherwise."

And when she smiled at him—that smile, meant only for him, Remus swore he'd died and gone to heaven. All the emotions he had harboured for her yet kept hidden rose with a ferocity that stunned him.

He wanted to kiss her.

_It would be fine,_ he reasoned. _She's practically over with James, isn't she..._

_James._

Remus shook himself out of his fantasies and shyly returned her smile. "Thank you, Regina," he told her, deliberately so that she would feel how much her acceptance meant to him. "Thank you."

Her smile grew even brighter. "You're welcome, Remus."

They sat in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, each one acutely aware that a significant moment had just passed. Hermione felt like she had rediscovered something that had been lost for a while, and perhaps that was warranted considering that Remus had been her first good friend in this time.

"I've missed talking to you, Remus," Hermione told him truthfully. "It's been quite some time."

"Yeah," Remus agreed softly. "It's been some time." An idea hit him, and he sat up, mouth suddenly dry. "Hey, listen. It's Hogsmeade weekend this Saturday. If you're going, would you like to go with me? With u-us, I mean," he stammered.

_There. I've asked her out. Kind of. _His heart was suddenly silent now, waiting in suspense.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I suppose so," she answered hesitantly. "I mean..." _If James still isn't speaking to me, that is. Fat chance he will anytime soon, though._

Remus bit the inside of his cheek in self-reproach. "Of course, you might be going with James."

She stared at him for a long time before nodding slowly. "I would be, normally." _I should hope so. No, scratch that. I desperately wish it so. _"But it doesn't seem probable at a time like this."

Remus watched her as she resorted to staring at the crackling flames, her features cast in melancholy. "The War does strange things to people, doesn't it."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her eyes still on the fire.

"Well, it brings some people together and pulls some apart, or at least attempts to."

Hermione's head snapped in his direction. What he had just said bothered her, though she couldn't quite put a finger on it. "Funny you should say that..."

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden bursting of the portrait hole; James and Lily had just entered.

"No way you're going to get an _O_ on Potions, James," Lily said. The words were insulting but her tone was light; it was obvious they were in the midst of banter. "And if you don't get that, you know what that means. Your chances of being selected for Auror training significantly drops."

James actually laughed. "Well, better an _E_ in Potions than in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Lily," he retorted jokingly. "I'm sure those stooges in the Academy will prefer—" He stopped short at the sight of Hermione and Remus on one of the couches.

"Hey," he greeted, forcibly casual. "How come you guys are still up?"

"Studying," Remus replied promptly. From the corner of his eye he could see Hermione determinedly staring at everywhere except at James and Lily standing together.

Lily sighed. "Right you are, I should be doing that too." She looked around with a smile and said, "Well, goodnight, everyone," before turning towards the girls' dormitory.

Remus' eyebrows knitted. Since when did Lily Evans wish anybody a cheerful goodnight? _Sirius is right, the world is going mad! _He glanced at James to say so, but the black-haired Marauder didn't even seem to notice. He was staring at the Regina with an unfathomable expression on his face, and this time, she was staring back at him. Remus could feel the electricity charge between them, given the distance, and he could do nothing but watch. Watch and wait.

Hermione broke their connection, angling her head so that they wouldn't see the tears that threatened to fall. Without another word, she stood and left. Remus saw James reach out to touch her arm as she passed him, but he withdrew it at the last second. His eyes followed her every step, lingering on the threshold where she'd passed from his sight, standing immobile for so long it was as though he had been Petrified.

But then James turned to him and smiled feebly. "Catch some sleep, Moony. Tomorrow night's—"

_Trust him to think about his friends at a time like this._ "I know. I'll just finish this chapter. You go ahead." And then, his voice softening, "You should get some rest, you look tired."

James ran a hand through his hair and exhaled noisily. "Right. I'll go ahead then, if you don't mind."

"I don't," Remus waved him off. Just as James started on the stairs, Remus remembered something he needed to ask.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?"

James frowned; the question seemed to come from nowhere. "I have Quidditch practice; the match is a week from Saturday. But I'll try to after practice. I'll be seeing you there?"

Remus nodded, waiting until he heard the footsteps disappear before relaxing on the couch, his eyes closed. There was no denying it this time.

He felt guilty.

* * *

The night had raced her by. It was probably only a couple of hours before sunrise, and yet here she was, sitting on the window sill with arms hugging her knees to herself. She couldn't get herself to sleep and, after endless tossing in bed, decided to simply get up. She had paced around the dorm, flopped back onto the bed, stood up and crouched by the window, and still the same words kept running through her mind.

_ The War does strange things to people, doesn't it. It brings some people together and pulls some apart, or at least attempts to._

Remus' words troubled her because they were in every sense correct—and they hit close to home, were frighteningly similar to her own fretful thoughts. Destiny was struggling to reassert the pattern it knew it should be, and it was using the War to bring Lily and James together.

But to what end? To a marriage everybody expected, to a beautiful son? Just because it made perfect sense that James be with the one he had wanted since everybody could remember? The golden boy, the golden girl—together the ideal couple? Was that all there was to it?

_There has to be something else. Something..._

The answer came to Hermione in a horrifying, dizzying rush, she stuck her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out.

_Of course!_ she choked silently. _The War!_ _Voldemort!_ _It all ends when James defeats him!_

Tears started streaming down her face, but the words kept tumbling out—words that, like destiny, she was and would be unable to defy.

_ And James was with Lily and Harry that night he defeated Voldemort, he was married to Lily and had Harry with her, and it's not as if Harry or Lily had anything directly to do with that triumph, they were just there, but that's exactly it! They were there, I wasn't, and it's not as if I had anything to do with him being saved, but he lived that night because things happened the way they did, the way were supposed to!_

A sharp pain seared through her. James's handsome face, gazing at her lovingly, swam before her cloudy vision. She heard his voice, low and resolute. _I've decided. It's you I want. It's you I love, you I need to be with._

Hermione sobbed unabashedly into her hands. _Oh Merlin, I love you too, James!_ But she would not have the chance to say those words again. The crossroads before her were clear now, unmistakable through her tears. She didn't want to leave him, never wanted to do so, but if she didn't give in to what had long been and rightfully decreed by the heavens, she might never see him again.

_He might die._ Fear clenched her heart, strengthened her resolve. There was a chance, if she decided to do things differently, that he would not be attacked at all, that he would live peacefully. But how could he, when the peace of the world was his burden, though he knew it not yet? And who was to say he wouldn't be the one even if he didn't marry Lily, who knew what would happen after then?

She didn't know.

The window was closed, but she felt an icy chill course through her. Trembling, Hermione jumped down the sill and climbed into bed, pulling the covers to her chin. Everything she'd been through had been for naught. Destiny's way was painful, but it was best if James was to live.

And he would live, that she vowed. Never mind that she couldn't be with him. He would live even if it be the death of her. And it would be, for she had to watch over him to the end. She would make sure he'd get into Auror training, marry Lily, have Harry, defeat Voldemort. And she... She would have to get that Timeturner back, return to her own time, after she had ensured James's safety.

_ Everything will be as it should be._

Hermione smiled sadly as she rolled to her side, sleep as elusive as ever, and she suspect it would still be many nights from now. She had been ruthlessly played. Destiny had stolen her own ace—her timeless, immeasurable love for James—and had used it to trump her.

* * *

_Part it a little more to the left... There, and then maybe some on the forehead..._

Remus smoothed down his hair and smiled slightly at his reflection. He appeared to be in better health. It was to his relief that this month's transformation wasn't as painful as he was used to, but he couldn't help but wonder if his anticipation of this particular trip to Hogsmeade had anything to do with it.

Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw, through the mirror, James beside him. He was already dressed in his Quidditch uniform.

"You seem to be spending an awful lot of your time styling your hair, Moony," James observed good-naturedly. "Meeting up with a girl today?"

Remus slightly coloured. "No—er, just me and Sirius and Peter." _And Regina._

James raised his eyebrows in mild surprise but proceeded with messing up his hair until it was all spiky. "Is Regina going?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I think so, yes," Remus answered, also trying to be casual. "She'll be with us."

James adjusted his glasses, his mood brightening. He squared his shoulders and said, "Good. I'll meet up with you guys later." Clapping Remus on the back, he added seriously, "Take care of her. You know, times like these..."

Remus swallowed. "Sure."

A quick thanks and James was gone. Remus glanced at himself again in the mirror. Sighing, he ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. Once, twice, thrice, until it was quite mussed up.

It didn't stand up in all directions like James's, but it would do.

* * *

When he got to the Great Hall, Sirius, Peter and Hermione were already halfway through breakfast, James presumably already at the pitch.

"Moony, what happened to your hair?" Peter enquired, munching on a toast.

Remus couldn't meet his eyes, feeling the heat creep up his neck. "Nothing, I didn't do anything."

"You looked like you slept on it," Sirius commented, bored. "I mean, it's supposed to be sleek, like mine." As if to demonstrate his point, he blew a few wisps of hair away from his eyes.

Hermione groaned in disbelief. "Why in Merlin's name are you talking about hair that way?"

Sirius gave her the one-over. "Yeah, you wouldn't understand, with hair as unruly as that." He reached over and pulled a sprig from her ponytail, which bounced back like a spring. She looked at him with reproach.

_I think her hair's just fine,_ Remus contradicted in his head. Without the curls framing her face, her eyes stood out even more.

"You'd go well with James, all right. He adores his messy hair," Sirius continued.

To which Hermione replied impishly, "I adore it too, you know."

Surprised, Sirius and Peter burst into appreciative laughter, and Remus forced out a chuckle. He had lost his appetite.

As they made their way to the village along with the other students, Sirius continued pestering Hermione about her relationship with James. Irritated, Remus decided to tune him out but couldn't help listen in vaguely.

"Come on, you can't tell me you don't like him anymore," Sirius prodded after Hermione refused to answer any of his questions. "I've seen you look at him! And all those nights you pretended to be studying, staying up late, it was only so you could wait for him!" He peered closely at her. "So why aren't you together anymore?"

Hermione felt her insides lurch, but she managed a small, wistful smile. "I can't tell you," she replied simply.

Sirius grimaced at her, but Peter jumped in before he could speak. "I've seen him look at you too!" he squeaked excitedly. "When you completed that potion yesterday, you should've seen James's face." He paused and stared thoughtfully into space, searching for the right words. "He looked really proud, as if your accomplishment was his."

An odd expression stole into her face. "Did he now?"

"And incidentally," Sirius said, a note of steel this time, "didn't you promise me, sometime before James's birthday, that you would never hurt him?"

The words slapped Hermione hard, but she stood her ground, masking her pain. "I did, and I would never." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't owe you any explanation, Sirius. And besides, you don't—you _wouldn't_—understand."

Sirius' icy eyes darkened. "Maybe," he concurred. "But it seems to me you and James are making things more difficult than they ought to be. It's no secret you..." He made an awkward hand gesture. "Well, you love each other, so what's stopping you?"

Hermione could not believe her ears. Not too long ago Sirius wouldn't give her the time of the day, and now he wanted her to be back with his best friend!

_I wish it were that simple._

She opened her mouth, but Peter grabbed Sirius' arm and exclaimed, "Look, Padfoot! Zonko's having a sale!"

Their eyes flickered to a store whose displays were blocked with a crowd milling around it. Sirius touched her arm briefly and said, more gently, "Just think about it, okay? Because amazingly, Peter was right. You two _really_ were good together."

His words only made her feel worse. Hermione watched morosely as Sirius and Peter bounded for the joke shop and then turned her attention to Remus, whom she realised only then had been silent throughout the entire exchange.

"Remus?" she prompted with a smile. "Is something the matter?"

It took some effort to clear the haze in his mind and focus his attention on her; Sirius had been chattering obnoxiously for quite a while, after all. "Where's Sirius and Peter?"

"Zonko's," Hermione said, pointing. "Wow, you did zone out."

"Yes, well..." Remus took a deep breath. "What would you like to do now?"

Hermione shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Walk around maybe?" She motioned to the path they were treading and started to walk, with Remus catching up.

"Do you know if James is going to Hogsmeade?" she asked him quietly.

Remus looked at her searchingly, after which he muttered sullenly, "Yes, after Quidditch practice."

They strolled in silence, Hermione humming a nameless tune under her breath and taking in the sights around her. Which actually didn't do much to lift her spirits. All around her, Ministry of Magic posters were tacked, and some of the shops have been boarded up. And then, up ahead...

"That's the Shrieking Shack," Remus suddenly spoke, pointing to a dilapidated house in the distance.

"I know," Hermione said. "James told me. It's the most haunted house in Britain."

Remus exhaled sharply. "It's where I go when I transform." He saw her gape in astonishment and further explained, matter-of-factly, "All the screams and howls that the villagers hear... They were made by me. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour that this was haunted to keep people away. In fact, the Whomping Willow was planted in Hogwarts to ensure nobody would stumble upon the tunnel to it."

"The Whomping Willow leads to the Shrieking Shack?" Hermione repeated, amazed by this new piece of information.

"Yeah." Remus smiled at the memory. "Dumbledore did it all for me, for my... condition. Said I could still attend Hogwarts if we took certain precautions. At first I kept it secret from my friends, but they worked it out in third year."

Hermione laughed quietly. "I'd imagine they were inquisitive."

"That they were," Remus agreed. "They've helped me a lot, James and Sirius and Peter."

"But why do they go out with you during the full moon?" Hermione wondered. "Isn't that dangerous, will it not cause more trouble?"

Remus grinned mischievously at her. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you that much," he said. "It isn't my secret to tell." She rolled her eyes at him, and she looked both annoyed and adorable at the same time he couldn't help laughing.

"Well, whatever it is you're doing, I'm sure it's not allowed," Hermione concluded haughtily, crossing her arms.

His eyes twinkling, Remus replied, "Your confidence in us is heartwarming."

It was on this lighter note that they made their way to The Three Broomsticks, where they each bought a butterbeer. Taking their drinks out of the pub, they resumed their walk around Hogsmeade, unmindful of where they were going.

"Hello Remus, Regina!" a cheerful voice greeted them, and they both saw Alice walking towards them, waving. Lily was standing beside her, her red hair in a braid, smiling politely.

"Hello Alice, Lily," Remus returned courteously, nodding at each girl as he said her name. Hermione echoed his greetings.

"Where are the others?" Alice asked, eyeing them interestedly.

"Well, we left Sirius and Peter at Zonko's, and James has Quidditch practice," Remus glibly answered. "You're looking for them?" At this, his eyes flickered to Lily, who looked away.

"Oh no, just wondering," Alice said. She tugged at Lily's arm and stepped past them. "See you!"

After a few steps forward, Hermione couldn't resist looking back and saw, to her grim satisfaction, Alice and Lily whispering to each other and also casting them backward glances. She pursed her lips in exasperation.

"Don't mind them," Remus advised, his eyes on the far road. "They're just _wondering _the same thing half of the school's thinking about—why you aren't seen with James anymore." He cast her an appraising, sidelong glance.

"Honestly!" Hermione exclaimed, irked. "Is he really that popular that the other students mind everything he does?"

Remus chuckled. "You bet, big Quidditch hero that he is. Good looks and cheek don't hurt his chances either." He rubbed at his ear and said, "Before you came along, most people had always assumed James would end up with Lily, no matter how many times she rejected him. They'd make a charmed couple. But you jumbled it all up, with your sudden arrival and how quickly you stole James's heart. And then just as quickly, you're not together. Don't you realise how fascinating all of this is?"

"To someone not involved, of course," Hermione muttered.

"Of course," Remus concurred. "But don't let it get to you." He tapped her bottle of butterbeer. "Here, take a swig."

Hermione took one large gulp of her drink and looked around, noting with mild surprise that they were on High Street, standing outside Dervish and Banges. She handed her bottle to Remus.

"Would you mind? I just want to check something inside."

Remus considered her. "I can accompany you—"

"There's no need to," Hermione interrupted. "I'll be quick." Without waiting for his response, she pushed the door to the store open and entered, glancing at the strangely-shaped objects surrounding her and carefully edging forward.

The small, stout witch she had met before was busy polishing with a rug a silver instrument that seemed to be a telescope; she spoke without looking at her. "Good morning, please have a look around. I'm certain you will find many things to your liking—"

"I'm not buying anything, Madam Allegria. Or selling anything either, for that matter."

At her name, the woman started; there was a flash of recognition in her eyes, and she put down her rug.

"Do you—" Hermione hesitated. "Do you remember me?"

Madam Allegria gave a small laugh. "My child, of course I remember you! How can I forget?" She wagged one stubby finger. "You sold me a precious thing, a Time-turner. A very powerful Time-turner." She picked up her rug again and moved to clean another object. "Well, did the young man like the watch you gave him on his birthday?"

Disconcerted, as though it was so long ago, Hermione stammered, "Y-yes, yes he did." She looked around the shop. "Madam, the Time-turner... Have you got it safe?"

"Of course," the older lady answered calmly. "Will you be needing it back?"

"I might," Hermione answered slowly. "I don't know when though."

"Pardon my asking," Madam Allegria said, her tone still cordial, "but why did you make one in the first place? To go years back—it must be something of utmost significance."

"It is." Hermione left it at that, playing with her fingers, wondering if she must, or could, confide in her.

Understanding her caution, the storeowner smiled reassuringly. "I know it must be kept secret, my dear. What the Ministry would do if they found out..." She gave a small shudder. "I asked because I wanted to know what you aimed to achieve with this, going to such lengths."

"I wanted to be with the man I love," Hermione said plainly but softly.

"Couldn't you be with him in your time?" Madam Allegria asked. "Did he..." Her voice caught. "Did he die?"

Hermione shook her head. "He was..." She faltered, embarrassed. "He was married. To somebody else." There. It was out, and she waited for the woman to pronounce her judgment.

Madam Allegria dropped the cloth she was holding. She hastily picked it up and gathered her composure. "You love him that much?"

"Yes." Her throat constricted, but she spoke past it. "Yes," she repeated defiantly. "But it turns out I can't be with him after all."

"Is he in love with somebody else?" Madam Allegria asked sympathetically.

A look of anguish crossed Hermione's face. "No, he's in love with me."

"But..." Madam Allegria knew. There was a but in there somewhere, she was certain.

"But I can't be with him. Because I know his life. He would be involved in the War, and he would survive, but I wasn't originally a part of that." Hermione's fists were now clenched tightly. "So I have to stay away so everything will happen as it should be. So that he'll live."

Madam Allegria stared at her for a long time with mingled pity and sadness on her face. "I see. It's a paradox," she breathed.

"Excuse me?"

"Paradox," Madam Allegria repeated. "Time travel, especially into the past, entails all sorts of paradoxes, the kinds nature does not usually allow. But forget it." She sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry to hear all this, my dear." She glanced out the window. "Is he that young man there?"

Hermione followed her eyes and saw Remus watching them with a confused frown on his face. "No, he's a friend," she mumbled. The short conversation with Madam Allegria had drained her. "Well, I've troubled you enough," she said, taking her leave. "I'd better go. The Time-turner..."

"It'll be kept safe," Madam Allegria said.

Hermione responded with a quick, grateful smile and exited the shop, where she was met with mistrust in Remus' blue eyes.

"What took you long there? You know that woman?"

"Yes, I know her. I bought James's watch there. We just, you know, caught up on some stuff." Hermione took her butterbeer and emptied it. "Do you think we can go back to Hogwarts now? All of a sudden I don't feel too well."

Remus took her bottle and tossed it in a nearby garbage bin. His eyes were now warm and oddly protective as he took in her pale complexion. "Of course, Regina. Whatever you want."

* * *

"George, the Quaffle!" Katherine shouted at her teammate as she passed the red ball to him, both of them zigzagging through the air towards Matthew, who was hovering expectantly by the goalposts. Neil swung the Bludger in their direction but missed, and Matthew, distracted, flew to meet George. Unfortunately for Matthew, George returned the Quaffle to Katherine, who kicked it, aiming for the right hoop.

_TING!_

James grinned to himself as he continued tailing the Snitch. "Good one, Katherine!" he cheered, never taking his eyes of the golden ball. Many times he could have reached out and captured the Snitch, but he restrained himself. _This is good practice for the game on Saturday,_ he thought. Slytherin was two hundred points down; they would make sure, of course, that they wouldn't catch the Snitch until they were at least sixty points up. Or that _he_ wouldn't.

Certainly, he could catch the Snitch and immediately end the game like he did in their previous. But where was the thrill in that?

What he really wanted to do was let Slytherin take the lead up to sixty points and then mercilessly catch the Snitch from under their pug Seeker's nose. Which made this routine necessary practise. James rubbed his hands in excitement. _I can hardly wait._

"Potter, I know what you're doing!" Katherine yelled from the other side of the court, where the rest of the team was watching him. "Catch the Snitch so we can all go to Hogsmeade!"

James frowned at her. "I'm bloody Captain, Lyons!" But he urged his Nimbus forward and accelerated. _Almost there..._ He leaned forward and, with an expert swipe, secured the ball in his left hand. The Snitch struggled, its wings flapping wildly, as he soared over to his team.

"Excellent practice!" he told them, beaming. "We'll be alternating with Slytherin for practice next week, so that'll be..." He thought a moment. "Monday and Wednesday, six to eight in the evening. There'll be none on Friday, we need our rest." He signalled for a huddle, and after piling their hands in the middle, they roared, "GRYFFINDOR!"

After some seconds of whooping, the team then sailed back to the ground, rushing to the showers. James went straight to the Gryffindor tower and was about to dash through the portrait hole when it opened.

"Hi!" James acknowledged spiritedly, still high with adrenalin from practice. Alice and Lily had just come out of the common room, bulky bags slung over their shoulders. "Where are you off to?"

Alice nudged Lily, who seemed to have been spellbound at the sight of James in his Quidditch robes. Although, Alice had to admit, he was quite a sight, with his unruly hair and sweat-soaked clothes...

Lily blinked and smiled shyly at him. "Library." She patted her bag. "It's about ready to explode with the books and parchment I've packed. And you?"

"Oh, Hogsmeade, to catch up with my friends," James answered. "I'll just be taking a quick shower."

"Yeah, we saw them," Alice chimed in. "Remus and Regina walking around. They said they left Sirius and Peter at Zonko's. But that was more than an hour ago."

James's forehead wrinkled slightly at her mention of Remus, but he wilfully eased it and flashed his trademark smile at Alice. "Thanks." His eyes flickered towards Lily again. "See you later." He pushed open the portrait and clambered in, sprinting up his dormitory. He was dressed in record time; without wasting a second longer, he slipped on his glasses and raced to the sixth floor of the castle.

It usually took an hour to travel through the secret passageway to Honeydukes, but he was in such a hurry that it took him fifteen minutes less to reach the trapdoor. Praying there were still enough students milling around to disguise his entry, he gingerly climbed up and tiptoed out of the storeroom.

_Thank Merlin. _James blended with the crowd, searching for friends, but he could not find any one of them. He had checked The Three Broomsticks, Scrvivenshafts and, driven by the image of Remus and Regina together, even Madam Puddifoot's, but to no success.

Not that it bothered him the slightest. _In fact, this is probably what I've needed all along._ Already, walking alone had refreshed him, cheering him up even more than Quidditch practise did. And this time, he could freely think about everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks.

He sighed deeply, releasing all the tension he had kept within. He missed Regina—terribly. He didn't have the nerve to let it show though, nor did he want to. Looking back, he realised he had always made quite a fool of himself when it came to—well... Girls. First Lily and now Regina. While he knew men were expected to do the chasing, the courting, the works, his pride could only take so much.

James clenched his jaw. _Women._

_At least you do not have Sirius' reputation._ He grinned at this and then more soberly thought that it was quite lucky he had enough to distract him. Quidditch and exams and career plans all on his plate required his concentration and drove away problems of his relationship with Regina for stretches of time, and for that he was thankful.

He had almost forgotten what it was like to be carefree, to live life the way he wanted, unencumbered by matters of the heart.

Not that he wouldn't do anything to have Regina back. _It's just that..._ He heaved another sigh. _What more can I do? I already apologized, I already told her I loved her. It's all in her hands now._ He massaged his temples with his fingertips. _It's all in her hands now, so you should stop thinking about it!_ he scolded himself.

But he missed her—terribly.

_I wonder if she misses me._ He thought he saw her looking at him sometimes, and every time he caught her eye he fancied there was longing written over her face. But the moment would pass and when next he glanced at her she would be busy with something else, leaving him free to stare.

And stare to his fill he did, realising that there were so many things he did not yet know about her. That she had a habit of answering questions correctly, that her shoulders twitched the same way just before she was about to raise her hand. That she tuck her hair behind her ears whenever she was flustered. That she practised her spellwork whenever she was bored, her favourite conjuring birds out of thin air.

James chewed on his lower lip in fond reminiscence. They simply had had too little time shared with each other. _Come to think of it, we're only on our second month._ A lump formed in his throat.

_Too short. Definitely too short. I want a lifetime._

When he was thinking like this, of the plans he had made about his future, he couldn't include Lily. He didn't know where she fit in, even now that they were friends. Or sort of friends. Oh, he had been surprised to discover that Lily could be wonderful to talk to when she wasn't screaming at him, had been amazed that she was actually more beautiful when she laughed. Not too long ago he would have been elated at this development, and only last week she had him both thrilled and confused, but after that night at the Astronomy Tower, she meant nothing to him. She meant nothing but the mistake he kept making in the past and almost made again.

Merlin, how he missed Regina.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, James saw that he was standing outside Dervish and Banges. _Bloody hell, might as well have a look if they're in there._

The soft tinkling of the chimes announced his arrival. His eyes swept the room in renewed astonishment; he had been here before, certainly, but the disarray of bizarre magical instruments never failed to awe him.

"Take a look around, m'dear, you might find something to your liking," a kindly voice said, and James jumped as a stout witch appeared from behind a tower of boxes. She smiled kindly at him, and he recognized her as the storeowner. "Looking for anything?"

"No, er—I was looking for my friends," James replied. "But seeing as they aren't here... Well, I'll just leave." He raised his left hand in goodbye and turned to leave.

"Wait!" the witch exclaimed before he could reach the door.

James looked back questioningly. "Yes?"

"Could you please tell me the time?" she asked, gesturing towards the watch he wore on his right wrist. "I'm afraid I'm uncertain as to whether the clock in this store has been set properly."

James glanced down with some surprise. "Oh, this one doesn't tell the time." He smiled at her. "I just wear this because it was given to me by er—somebody special on my birthday."

The woman nodded as she considered him. "You've just come of age then?"

"Yes, last March." James made his way once again to the door, his forehead slightly wrinkled. _Strange. It's almost as if she knows._ He passed a display of jewellery, his sight zeroing in on a silver chain with a circular pendant laid on black velvet.

_Eclipse,_ the propped card in front read.

His frown deepened.

"Interesting, isn't it?" the woman said, noticing where his attention was directed.

"Sure," James said politely, dragging his eyes away.

"It's in reality two necklaces combined," she continued, now approaching the case and taking out the piece of jewellery. She held the circular pendant with two hands, between the tips of her index fingers and thumb, and made a pulling motion.

James blinked as the circle disintegrated to indeed produce two intricate pendants, one of a sun and the other of a moon, each hanging on a silver chain. Was it his imagination, or did the sun and moon gleam more than the circle in which they were confined?

"They're brighter this way," he murmured, reaching out to touch the sun pendant. "Beautiful."

"Isn't that always the case?" the storeowner softly replied. "The sun and moon shine more brightly when they're separate than together, for when they do, they shroud the world in darkness."

James allowed the words to wash over him, still entranced with how the silver caught the light. "Eclipse," he said, comprehension now dawning.

"That's right," she said cheerfully, breaking through the mysterious atmosphere that had before then enveloped them. "But no matter the meaning, it would make a good gift to somebody special, I should suppose, as good a way as any of telling somebody they light up your life."

A light bulb switched on in James's head, and he smiled broadly. "I'll take that," he declared. "I know just who to give it to."

"The same person who gave you that watch?" she enquired shrewdly.

"No one else," James agreed.

The storeowner had a satisfied smile on her lips as she merged the pendants once again and replaced it in the velvet box, closing it with a snap. James reached in his robes for his bag of money while he followed her to the counter, where she rang up his purchase.

While waiting for James to count his money out, she added conversationally, "You know, legend has it that lovers who wear necklaces with unified pendants have their hearts and souls intertwined so that no matter what happens, they always find each other in the end."

Amused, James thought, _I bet that's just for sales._ He handed his money and took the bag in return. "Well, I'll do better than that, 'cause I swear I won't lose her in the first place. Ever."

Again, there was that piercing, knowing look from her, but before he could demand an explanation from that kindly old face, she smiled warmly at him, and he swallowed his indignation.

"Good luck, young man. I hope she likes it."

* * *

Whether she liked it or not, James hadn't had a chance to find out. It was Wednesday, four days after he had bought the necklaces, but an opportunity to get her to himself had yet to arise. They were both just too busy, he realised ruefully. He was preoccupied with Quidditch and rounds and N.E.W.T.s, and she was, according to his friends, keen on studying as well. She didn't return from the library until it was past eleven, and probably only because Madam Pince had kicked her out.

Her and Remus. James squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated instead on his shower. But she and Remus had been spending a little too much time together, and... He suppressed a growl. The very idea irked him.

_Remus is your friend,_ a voice in his head reasoned, and at once he was shamed. How could he even entertain such disloyal thoughts? It was utmost betrayal!

James sighed and turned the knob to put out the water. He reached for his towel and winced as a sharp pain coursed through his nape and spread to his shoulders.

"Damn," he muttered, reaching to rub the spot and ease the pain. He had strained his neck earlier in practice, after having lost control of his broom—which was in itself strange. His Nimbus had always obeyed his command at his slightest touch, but now... James shrugged into his clothes, exited the stall and grabbed his broom, propped against the wall, and again there was that unpleasant tingle up his arm.

Something was wrong.

_Probably just game jitters, Prongs,_ he imagined Sirius reassuring him. He tightened his grip on the broom, as though claiming ownership once again, and at the back of his mind nagged the doubt that it could have been tampered with. It would have been all too easy for somebody from Slytherin to sneak in the locker room and break the protective Charms on his Nimbus while he was in the shower—

James snorted, dismissing the possibility. As if any one of them had enough brains to do so!

It was to his satisfaction that he entered the Great Hall just in time for dinner. He walked over to where the Marauders and Regina were seated and had just started piling the food on his plate when she suddenly stood up.

Confused, and forgetting that they were not actually on speaking terms, James asked, "Where are you off to?"

Hermione met his eyes with a startled look. "Dumbledore. I have an appointment with him."

"Do you want me to go with you?" James offered, silently praying she would say yes.

But she only smiled and coloured slightly at the attention. "I'll be fine, James. It's just about N.E.W.T.s. Go eat your dinner, I bet you're famished after practice." With that, she turned her back on them and walked down the Hall.

James watched her until she was out of his sight, a smile creeping into his face, and began digging into his meal with much gusto.

"Merlin, Quidditch must've starved the heart out of you," Sirius dryly commented.

James merely beamed.

* * *

"Ah, Miss Weisz, I've been expecting you," Dumbledore greeted her the moment she entered the oak door of the Headmaster's office. He stood up from his desk, several rolls of parchment in front of him, and motioned for her to take a seat.

Hermione closed the door carefully behind her and gingerly took the chair Dumbledore had offered. "Good evening, Professor."

"I trust you had a good dinner?" Dumbledore courteously asked. At her nod, his blue eyes strayed to a nearby clock; it had just struck eight. "Just on time," he murmured.

"Well, Miss Weisz, I gather you're here to convince me to allow you to take the N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Indeed, Professor. I think you will find my performance in all my classes to your satisfaction."

"I do not doubt your abilities," Dumbledore agreed. "In fact, all your professors have given testimony to your extraordinary aptitude, and if this was the basic and only premise ruling my permission for your final exams, I would have given it without further discussion."

The Headmaster's voice was kind, but her instincts were telling her he meant to say something else—a contradiction. "Thank you," Hermione nevertheless answered.

"But I cannot in good faith allow you to continue without knowing who you really are," Dumbledore declared firmly. He put his fingers together in a prayerful tent. "You see, Miss Weisz, with your refusal to disclose information when you first came to this school, I have made considerable effort to confirm your identity and from where you've come."

Hermione's face paled, her eyes wary, but she said nothing.

"Fortunately, existence has but two dimensions—space and time," he continued. "I have searched for records of you in every place and past imaginable and have failed." His blue eyes suddenly pierced her, and he smiled.

"I can only conclude then, Miss Weisz, that you've come from the future."

Hermione surveyed the Headmaster for several moments, her jaw tense. "Professor, I apologise for my insolence, but have you considered the high possibility that I have been using another name?"

"Indeed I have," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Yet your face is your identity, yes?"

"Professor—"

"I ask you now, Miss Weisz, the same question I asked you then," Dumbledore interrupted gravely. "What was your purpose in coming here? Surely there was something you wished to change; you went to this much trouble, after all—"

"My intentions have changed," Hermione sharply declared, not attempting to deny that she indeed came from another time. "I have decided to keep things the way they are, so further discussion is pointless."

"Even if you intend to do so, your mere existence is a difference," Dumbledore stated evenly. "You've realised that, I presume?"

She was trembling so badly now, she had to grip the edges of her seat to steady herself. "I assure you, Professor Dumbledore, that I'm doing all I can to ensure that everything will be as it should be, to the best of my knowledge. Believe me," she emphasized, almost pleadingly, "it might not be in my best interest, but I choose to do so lest I endanger..." Her voice trailed off, her heart thudding in fear. Had she said too much?

_Now we're getting somewhere._ The lines on the Headmaster's face became more sympathetic, and he kindly replied, "I see. Let's leave this thread of conversation for now." He saw her features sag with weary relief and said, his tone now brisk, "As for your N.E.W.T.s, you've been taking the classes required for Auror training or Healing. I am aware it is rather late for career counselling, but did you want to pursue those after school?"

"I—er—yes, those were my options," Hermione stammered, surprised at the change in topic and in the Headmaster's disposition.

Dumbledore peered at her. "You'd need top grades for both, I assume you know that?"

Hermione nodded. "I've been studying hard to earn those marks, Professor. I hope I can manage."

"Judging from the feedback I've been getting from your teachers, you'd do just fine," Dumbledore concurred. "It would be good to have something to do while you're here, wouldn't it? For you would not be able to participate in the War, if things were to remain the same..."

Hermione grimaced but nodded again, keen to leave the office. "If there isn't anything else, Professor...?"

"There is," Dumbledore said slowly, "one more thing. You never mentioned how long you planned to stay."

The cogs in her mind turned as she wondered how best to answer. And then she softly admitted, "As long as it's necessary, sir. As long as it takes to see him—people—through..." Hermione hesitated.

"Through the War?" Dumbledore finished astutely.

Hermione's throat knotted, so she nodded for a third time.

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, satisfied for the moment with the answers she gave. He observed her through his spectacles with an expression akin to pity. "That's all for now. You may go, Miss—"

Brown eyes directly met his, resigned yet unwavering. "Granger, Professor. Hermione Granger." She mustered a smile and left without another word.

* * *

"You can go ahead without me," James waved Lily off happily as they passed the kitchens on their way back from rounds. "I have to get some hot chocolate."

Lily smiled coyly at him, uncertain about his drastically upbeat mood. "It's fine, I don't mind waiting." She followed him as he sailed into the kitchens and watched him approach a house-elf. While waiting for him to receive what he had requested, she asked him interestedly, "Why do you always prepare a nightcap?"

"It's for my friends," James answered at once. "It's become sort of a tradition before we turn in." Awkwardness struck him, and he supposed it was just right for him to invite her. "Do you think you'd like to join us? I can ask Tinky to get another cup."

The corners of Lily's mouth turned up in another small smile—but only almost. "There's no need for that, but thanks."

One of the house-elves, to which James expressed his gratitude, cheerfully handed him five porcelain cups on a gleaming silver tray. They were sent off with wishes of return and were walking in companionable silence when Lily was reminded of a question she had been wanting to ask him. To do so would be out of character, and yet there was that secret, burning desire to know. Besides, she was unwilling to waste any more of her nights speculating on and fretting over the answer.

Merlin, sometimes she really hated James.

"James?"

"Hmm?" He turned and looked expectantly at her.

_I've been meaning to ask you for ages..._ "Are you and Regina still together?" Lily blurted out in what she attempted and hoped to the heavens was a nonchalant manner. She glanced at James, half-expecting him to fly off the handle or smirk smugly or anything but frown thoughtfully. How he'd changed!

Lily didn't want to break his silent musing, inwardly cringing at how stupid she'd been to succumb to that desire to know. But he astounded her yet again when, as they neared the Gryffindor common room, he grinned and confidently said, "I think so, yes. We've just run into one of those troubles, you know, everybody has once in a while. But things are looking up."

Relief at finally having the answer soothed her mind, but disappointment and envy bubbled in the pit of her stomach all the way up to her heart, it was difficult to say which was stronger. Lily smiled weakly. "Good for you," she told him, wanting so much to be sincere. "But what if—"

"Then I'll just have to pursue her again, won't I?" James cut her off, rather strongly now, his eyes flashing. "Because there is definitely no way I'm letting her go easy." The tray which he was levitating rattled as he lost some control, so he steadied his wand once again.

"Right you are," Lily approved, swallowing a lump and realising for the nth time how terrific the boy standing next to her was, how she desperately wanted him after all. But she didn't wish to wallow in this misery, for self-loathing often followed such thoughts, because once he was hers for the taking, but foolishly, she didn't... She didn't...

"Auror Academy," she heard James announce to the Fat Lady. It was the first password they had agreed on, for it was a dream they shared: to be a part in Voldemort's downfall. Numbly, she climbed through the portrait hole and returned James's goodnight in a mumble. She couldn't wait to be rid of him, afraid of another wrong move that would reveal the truth of how she felt...

James curiously watched Lily leave, trying to decipher the strange expression he last saw cross her face; he couldn't remember ever seeing her like that. He wondered whether the shadow of the Death Eaters' attack still weighed heavily on her, but she had seemed so much better as of late. Could it be...?

"Earth to Prongs!" Sirius exclaimed from the couch near the fire. "The chocolate's getting cold, have you noticed?"

Startled, James turned to face his friends, Sirius wearing the most indignant mask of all, and headed towards them, the tray hovering in front of him. He carefully set it on the table and sat beside Peter. The other Marauders immediately took their share of the drinks and, after their first sips, yawned with content.

"You're welcome," James told them sarcastically, his eyes now straying to Hermione, lounged on a chair all her own and with a book on her lap. He handed her a cup, craving her attention and winning, revelling in seeing her face light up and his reflection in her eyes.

"Thank you," Hermione sweetly said, smiling genuinely for the first time in awhile. Her conversation with Dumbledore had somewhat been a comfot; it was a relief to be able to unburden some of her secrets. With the road she must take mapped before her, her resolve had hardened and her strength to take on that journey, however alone, had intensified.

But James, misinterpreting, grinned at her in response. No doubt encouraged, he further enquired, "Still studying for the exams?"

Hermione shivered; it was like being doused with cold water for a rude awakening. If she was to push him out of her life forever, she was to start now; otherwise, how could he ever end up with Lily? Her heart throbbed, but she would be stronger than her heart.

"Yes," she answered him curtly, feigning impatience to return to her reading.

She didn't know, for she couldn't bring herself to look at him, but James was crestfallen.

An unpleasant silence descended upon them. Sirius, Remus and Peter quickly drained their cups and with forced ease bade James and Hermione goodnight, almost scrambling up the stairs in a hurry. The moment they were alone, James rounded in on her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, glowering. "And _why_ are you doing this to me?"

Hermione's eyes flitted to him then away. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said evasively.

James grabbed the book she was using as a distraction and flung it to the opposite couch, but she didn't protest, nor did she appear to be taken aback by his vehemence. This infuriated him further. "You know damn well what I'm talking about," he said, his patience hanging by a deadly thread. "You've been avoiding me, but it's about time we talk."

Her brows knitted, as though in confusion. "Maybe I haven't forgiven you completely yet, have you thought of that?"

"Then why did you thank me when I handed you your chocolate? Why did you even talk to me during dinner? Why did you tell me you weren't angry with me anymore? Why... Why did you even let me kiss you that night?" James raged, pulling at his hair in anguish. "Tell me, just what exactly are you playing at?"

Hermione struggled to keep a facade of bland incredulity, even when she could hear her heart shattering into a million more tiny pieces with every word he stabbed at her. Oh Merlin, this was going to be so much more difficult than she had expected! And she was helpless to do anything else but be ruthlessly cruel and must instead inflict on him more pain...

_But with no heart left to break, to feel, it would be easier, wouldn't it?_

"I was merely being nice, James," Hermione reasoned as she would a petulant child. "We were, after all, friends to begin with."

His jaw clenched. "I don't believe what I'm hearing. You don't mean it, do you? If you want to be kind, just stay completely out of my life!"

_Isn't that exactly what I'm trying to do?_ Hermione averted her eyes, swiftly engulfed by a deep sadness. "You're right," she conceded. "It's just as you said—I was harshly unfair, and I'm sorry. I'll do my best to keep myself out of your way. I can start now, in fact, refuse to discuss this any longer. Please don't bother yourself with me anymore."

She stood to leave, but James grabbed her arm and whirled her to face him. She caught a glimpse of his hazel eyes, dark and stormy, and then she saw no more, for she had closed her eyes the instant his lips brushed hers. It was reflex, to concentrate on the emotions that coursed through her whenever he kissed her, and he was making her remember, every single memory they've shared flashing through her mind.

_No, you're not supposed to let this happen!_

Hermione lifted her hands—which, in her cloudy state of awareness, she realised with mortification, were secured at his hips—to his chest and pummelled to push him away.

James caught her wrists and dragged them down again, pulling her closer instead. She resisted, but he caught her lower lip, and she sighed instead, rational thought defeated. Emboldened, James deepened the kiss. There was no fight left in her now, and he was to end it on his terms. He allowed himself to taste her thoroughly—it had been too long—before slowly pulling away. He stared down at her flushed cheeks, her ravished lips, watched her flutter her eyes open and saw there the veil of tears.

His hands enfolding hers, held between them, James challenged hoarsely, "Now tell me, Regina, that you don't love me anymore."

The veil thickened, and James could almost hear wands being drawn and duelling inside her head. What was troubling her, he couldn't imagine, but it angered him.

"Tell me!" James repeated forecefully, gripping her hands more tightly.

She wordlessly shook her head, looking lost and vulnerable, and James suddenly hated himself for bringing this upon her. But his selfish nature immediately took over, and he fiercely whispered, "You love me. I know you love me still."

Trembling, Hermione stood on tiptoes and, with crushing tenderness, kissed his cheek, allowing her touch to linger. Stunned, for the gesture carried with it the bittersweet twinge of a love affirmed and an inevitable farewell, he dropped her hands. She started walking away, determined not to spare him a backward glance.

Seized with panic, James rushed to her and embraced her from behind. "Don't go, please." It wasn't like him to beg, but he'd do whatever it took to keep her. "I love you. I'm not giving you up without a fight."

Hermione smiled sadly, stroking his fingers that were splayed on her waist. "How can you fight, not knowing what you're up against?"

James exhaled, his breath blowing past her ear. "Does it matter, as long as I know what I'm fighting for?"

Tears flowed down her face, freely but silently. Damn destiny, damn all the odds! She couldn't bear to lose him. Hermione turned and pressed her lips to his, wanting to make up for the time they had lost, hoping he could feel the love she offered without reserve.

After many frantic heartbeats, they paused for breath. James was smiling weakly when he reached out to wipe away the last of her tears. "Does this mean you'll stay with me?"

Precious seconds ticked by. James was lowering his lips to claim hers, to once again convince her, but a fraction of an inch away, Hermione whispered in surrender, "Yes."

Had she, with that one word, sealed the fate of the Wizarding world?

"I'd like that, yes," she sighed.

Hermione leaned against his chest and felt his strong arms lead her possessively into the safety of his embrace.

_For the meantime.  


* * *

_

**Author's Notes:** There you have it, guys. I sure hope you like it. The very long wait was due to second year in med being unbelievably toxic. People say third year's easier, so I do hope to update more frequently. I'm sorry I can't change the length of the chapters because they do have to end where they should. Chapter 23 will be pivotal, so do watch out for that. Thank you so much for waiting and still reading! :)


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